


The Best Men, a Supernatural/Bridesmaids AU.

by jscribbles



Series: The Best Men [1]
Category: Bridesmaids, Supernatural
Genre: AA, Alcoholism, Crossover, F/M, Food Poisoning, Gen, M/M, Multi, Post-Apocalypse, Romantic Comedy, Substance Abuse, Vomiting, Wedding, brady - Freeform, bridesmaids - Freeform, bridesmaids crossover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-22
Updated: 2012-04-21
Packaged: 2017-11-04 02:39:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 55,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/388773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jscribbles/pseuds/jscribbles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>S6 AU (And sort of S5 AU after 5.10 - Ellen dies but Jo lives and Brady doesn't die in 5.20). Set two years after the apocalypse that never happened. When Sam is due to get married and appoints Dean as his best man, chaos ensues. Especially since Sam's rekindled friendship with Brady has been getting in between the Winchesters' brotherly bond. Dean struggles with his life as it doesn't go according to plan, Bobby is in sober and actually happy, Jo has a boyfriend that is much too attractive, and Cas deals with being human a tad poorly. Oh, and why does everyone think Cas and Dean are boyfriends?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Before we go on, I must thank dreamscapemusic for being a friggin' amazing character voice beta. She read everything so last minute and gave me such wonderful feedback that was honest and so helpful. I would have been lost and alone in this cold, cold writing world without her help. My other beta, Amanda, who read through my work like a champ, picking out the many stupid mistakes I made because I'm a psycho who writes mostly during the early hours of the morning. She also was probably the best motivation behind me finishing this. So thank you, you two. Also, HUGE THANKS TO MY AMAZING ARTIST. End caps. lizfu is a BOSS. The artwork she made for this fic melts my heart, makes me squee, and turns my eyeballs into huge pulsating hearts, Sailor-Moon style. Thanks to the three of you for making this so fun for me!

Life for Sam and Dean Winchester changed rather dramatically after the ‘End Of the World‘.

Or rather, what would have been a mega smack down between the armies of His Holy Father’s Glittery Garden in the Sky versus the mangled and blacked souls of His Dark Majesty, The Morning Star. The abrupt and rather surprising postponing of said apocalypse was much due to Sam’s and Adam’s graceful swan dive into Hell.

Not of course before Sam gained control of his body for brief minutes and harnessed enough power to banished all demons to Hell that were still roaming Earth. He had the devil in him and damn it, he was gonna use it to his advantage. It was _his_ party and he could cry if he wanted to. Although there was less crying and more kick-ass smiting.

There was some crying, of course. This is _Supernatural_ after all _._ Ask Dean, he was there.

Of course, there could be no ‘Life for Sam and Dean’ if Sam was kicking around in Hell. Dean wouldn't have that. Five years, over thirty different kinds of bloody demise, a pretty rational fear of dogs, as well as a stint in Hell... it was not going to go to waste. The world was finally safe and God damn it, he was not going to enjoy it if Sam wasn’t in it.

Which is why being friends with Angel of the Lord, Castiel, was so handy-dandy. A couple chick flick moments later that consisted of Dean getting belligerently drunk, mixed with a bit of begging him to save Sam and Cas was in. It didn’t take much from Dean to get Cas to do anything, really. It only took a couple tears, heart wrenching emotional man-pain, and prolonged-drunken-man-hugs-that-were-not-cuddling to convince Cas.

Against Dean’s knowledge, Holy Tax Accountant sold his grace to Crowley to help him open the cage and retrieve the brother. Giving Bobby’s legs back obviously gained Crowley favour in Sam’s eye, because it was surprisingly easy to grab the demon out of Hell after his banishment there. He was the King of the place where the big boss was locked in a cage. Leadership had it’s in and out privileges, it seemed.

Castiel, upon arrival in His Dark Prince’s abode, was surprised to find Hell completely renovated. Sure, the lighting was a bit dim and the floors could use some washing, but Crowley had really fixed up the place. It was not at all how Cas remembered it. He had remembered more fire, torture and the sound of eternal damnation (which sounded a lot like blood-curdling screaming, flesh being torn, and Rick Astley’s ‘Never Gonna Give You Up’ backwards and on repeat). To his chagrin, the Devil Hole Box had also been revamped.

After watching Crowley enter a code into the door key pad, unlatch some bolt locks and unravel some chains, he pushed open a door at the end of one of Hell’s long and narrow hallways to find Sam, Adam, Lucifer, and Michael looking pissy around a table of Monopoly. Well, it made sense. That game never seems to finish. How fitting that it would become a eternal punishment in Hell. It was a punishment on _Earth_.

Needless to say, when Castiel showed up with Sam and Adam - a two for one deal, as per usual with the Winchester family - he was extremely unhappy about losing his grace. Mortality better be friggin’ worth the trouble - or lack therof.

Anyway, this is the story of Sam and Dean Winchester. And Cas, _sans_ angelic powers. And Bobby, with functional and nicely shaped legs. And lots of alcohol -- maybe too much. White wine, specifically.

Oh yes, and a there was a wedding.


	2. Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> S6 AU (And sort of S5 AU after 5.10 - Ellen dies but Jo lives and Brady doesn't die in 5.20). Set two years after the apocalypse that never happened. When Sam is due to get married and appoints Dean as his best man, chaos ensues. Especially since Sam's rekindled friendship with Brady has been getting in between the Winchesters' brotherly bond. Dean struggles with his life as it doesn't go according to plan, Bobby is in sober and actually happy, Jo has a boyfriend that is much too attractive, and Cas deals with being human a tad poorly. Oh, and why does everyone think Cas and Dean are boyfriends?

_Two Years Later_

“Dude, I’m sure there are better ways of getting an internet connection than by sitting outside your neighbour’s window and stealing the signal from her.”

Dean Winchester shook his head at his gigantor brother from across the table while attempting to shove a quarter of his burger into his mouth. Ketchup oozed out of the bottom and dropped down onto his pants. Dean groaned and grabbed his brother’s napkin out of his hand so he could rub furiously at the denim.

“Dude, are you joking me? Internet is expensive.“ Dean said. He stared at the ketchup patch on his jeans, then sighed and threw the napkin between his younger brother‘s eyes in defeat. “And it’s not even worth it. I’d have to split the cost of it with Cas, and do you remember the last time we tried to teach him how to use _technology_? He called me thirteen times at work ’cause he couldn’t figure out how to switch the TV channel from the Oprah Network.”

Sam’s eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. He took a thoughtful sip from his drink and then said, “Hm. Weird. I thought he’d like the Oprah network.”

“I know, right? Me too.” Dean shrugged, then shoved more fries into his mouth than was probably safe, and continued, licking salt off his fingers in between words. “Anyway, we’re not getting internet. Cas is still kinda getting used to humanity. I think we‘d find him with a noose around his neck the day he discovered 4Chan.”

Sam cringed. “Urgh. Yeah. Good point. No internet for you guys.” He paused, “Although, you know if it’s just about the money, I can spot you, man.”

Dean bristled.

Ever since Sam had began dating Sarah Blake a year and a half ago, going back to law school, and working at some fancy company in their legal department, he was considerably well off and always more than willing to try and support Dean. It was nice, and Dean knew that Sam only had his best interests at heart, but he was still the big brother. He didn’t like the role reversal. He was supposed to take care of Sammy, not the other way around. Not that Sam particularly needed any help. Stupid kid had a great head on his shoulders and somehow, in two years, he’d created the life for himself that he always wanted. A life Sam told himself and Dean that he didn’t want anymore over the years, but deep down always craved for.

“No.” Dean replied shortly, “Keep your money, ass clown. If I really wanted internet, I‘d get it myself. I‘m not poor, I have a job. I get paid to--”

Sam grinned. “ _‘Watch hot chicks work out and play Mario Kart in my office.’_ I know. How is the gym, anyway? You still having sex with young girls?”

Dean looked offended. “Whoa, dude. Say that any louder, jeez.” He looked around, and of course the seven other people sitting in the diner were looking at him with disgust. Dean turned back to Sam, extremely unimpressed with the goofy grin on his brother’s face. “I am not having sex with young girls. They’re legal, Sam. Legal and bendy.”

“Stay classy, Dean.”

Dean reached forward and slapped the fork right out of Sam’s hand as he was lifting it to his mouth. Sam scoffed and Dean grinned, content again. “Judge all you want, Sam. You’re just jealous that you’ve been boning the same chick for almost two years.”

“Yeah. Monogamous relationships - what a bore.” Sam rolled his eyes and accepted a new fork from the waitress who shot him a sympathetic look and narrowed her eyes at Dean.

Dean took a giant bite out of his burger and shrugged. “You don’t even know, dude. These girls at the gym are willing to do anything. They’re freaks. They’re constantly asking to lick my --”

“Whoa! Whoa.” Sam yelped, waving his hands in front of him. “Dude, too much information. Fucking cradle robber.”

Dean swallowed and shook his head. “Prude.” He sighed, setting down his food. Uncomfortably, Dean changed the subject and asked, “So how are things with Sarah, anyway?”

It was polite to ask. He asked every time. Not that he wanted to talk about feelings or relationships - he wasn’t a _girl_. But he rarely saw Sam anymore. If he didn’t ask, he wouldn’t know. Between work, Sam’s girlfriend, and living apart from each other recently, seeing Sam was a treat. While they tried to phone each other every day or so, Dean was finding that Sam was having less and less time for him, and they were having less and less to talk about. Having a normal life, at least for Dean, was _boring_.

Sam looked worried. He set down his fork and shrugged. “I dunno, man.”

Dean’s heart swelled for a moment. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Sarah. Actually, Sarah was pretty damn awesome. She was a good, cool girl. _Hot_ , too. She was great for Sam. But parts deep inside Dean were a little resentful towards her for the distance that was developing between him and his brother.

Sam continued. “I really love her.” (Dean stiffened. Oh no. Feeling talks.) “I know it’s only been a year and half, but I’m starting to forget what it’s been like without her around. Dean,” Sam paused to exhale slowly and Dean leaned in, worried about his brother, “She’s moving to New York. Her dad bought a location in downtown New York and he’s given one of their art galleries to her. It‘s a great opportunity, Dean. I‘m happy for her, but I don‘t know what to do when she leaves.”

Dean struggled for words for a moment. “I’m really sorry, man. But tons of people have long distance relationships. If anyone could do it, it would be you.”

“I know. I would move with her--” (Dean’s heart pretty much fell out of his butt.) “-- but I’m finishing school in a couple weeks and the job with Brady is going so well. I think I could get promoted as soon as I graduate.”

Dean ran with it. “Yeah, dude. You can’t just drop everything for a chick you’ve been seeing for just a year and a half.”

A curious look flashed across Sam’s face, but it wasn’t around long enough for Dean to decipher. It did however suddenly make him extremely conscious of what he was saying. Abruptly, Dean changed the subject.

“I dunno how you can work with that demon asshole after everything that he did to you. Hell, I don‘t even know why you saved him. I would‘ve stabbed him in the conch.”

“That is so disgusting.” Sam said, not sounding disgusted at all. He sighed and pushed aside his plate, fixing his brother with a puppy dog look that made Dean feel instantly guilty for some reason. “Dean, after everything that happened to us and our family, out of all people we should understand what it’s like to have demons ruining our whole lives.”

“Yeah, he’s the demon who ruined our lives.”

“He’s not a demon. We exorcized that demon. He’s Brady again. He was the kid stuck in that meat suit with the demon who ruined our lives. He lost a huge chunk of his life to being under a demon’s control. You-We should be able to understand what that’s like.”

Dean sighed, but then looked up at his brother from the half eaten meal he suddenly wasn’t hungry for. “You’re a better man than me. I would‘ve left him there. And I especially wouldn‘t have let him into my life again.”

Sam smiled a soft smile that made Dean feel even worse. “You would’ve.”

“Stop looking at me like that. You’re creeping me out.” Dean snapped.

Sam laughed. The tension in the air lifted and Dean felt a bit better. “He’s trying, Dean. He’s trying to fix what he can between us. Before he was a demon, he’d been my friend. He was the one who pulled some strings, remember? Got me a job, got you and Cas a decent apartment for cheap. He’s doing his best.”

Dean grumbled. “Yeah, whatever. He still managed to stay a mega douche bag.”

Sam laughed and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, so he’s got his faults. Dude, if I could forgive him, you can, too.”

“I just can’t look at him without seeing the demon who killed our m--”

“And I can’t look at you without seeing a giant dick with legs, but I survive.” Sam said, grinning and stealing a fry off of Dean’s abandoned plate. Dean scoffed.

“You look at me and see a giant penis? What’s wrong with you? _We‘re brothers_.”

Sam threw down a couple bills onto the table before Dean could protest, and raised his eyebrows. “Tell that to Becky. She keeps emailing me multi-chaptered post-apocalyptic Wincest fan fiction.”

-

The two brothers walked around the corner, conversing over Dean’s car. Though there was less exchange in conversation and more Dean prattling on about modern technology fucking up his baby. Apparently he was still very upset about the iPod jack incident from four years ago. This was Dean’s favourite rant.

Therefore Sam was relieved when AC/DC began playing from Dean’s pocket and interrupted the riveting conversation. The boys stopped walking.

“Stop looking at me like that, Sam. No, I will never forgive you for abusing my baby.” He shook his head and shot one last dirty look up at his brother before he answered the phone call.

“Hey Bobby. How‘s the sheriff?” He asked, grinning and nodding as Bobby grumbled something at him on the other end of the line. Sam could hear the low rumble through the phone. He watched Dean nod and suddenly look serious. “Uh huh… well, I’ll ask but you know the answer.”

Sam was about to ask what was happening, when Dean turned to him and asked with a half-grimace on his face. “Bobby has a job for me. He wants to know if you’ll help.”

Of course the answer was going to be ‘no’. Both boys knew it. It would explain how pained Dean looked at having to ask. Partially because he asked every time and figured that Sam was getting annoyed, but mostly because he allowed himself to be hopeful that his brother might actually join him one more time.

Sam scowled at his brother, shaking his head slightly. “No. You know I don’t hunt anymore. Even if I really wanted to, I couldn’t. I promised Sarah I wouldn’t and, you know, I have a real job now. Can’t be out late and I can’t --”

“ ‘Travel and get injured. They’ll ask question.’ Blah blah blah.” Dean pressed his ear to the phone and continued walking forward, leaving Sam to pause for a second before he followed, a tiny look of guilt on his face. “Told you. He can’t. He’s a real boy now.”

Sam pursed his lips and Dean chuckled. “I’ll do it alone, Bobby.” Dean said, shrugging. After some quick, sharp words from the other end, he scowled and added, “Buddy system? What the hell is this - the girls bathroom? All right. Fine. I’ll bring Cas with me.”

When Dean hung up, Sam turned his head to look at him. “Dean, maybe you should quit hunting, too.”

Dean turned to look at his brother, doing his best not to look horrified. “What? Why?”

Sam shrugged, looking suddenly bashful. “I just figured after fighting to save the world for so long, you’d want to finally enjoy some of it. Especially with the kind of life we’ve all been making for ourselves these past two years. You have a job, an apartment--” Dean snorted. “--don’t laugh. It’s a small apartment but it’s still home. _Cas_ has a job. Cas is human now, man. He’s just started to kind of get the hang of it. It feels kinda wrong to constantly drag him into dangerous situations.”

Dean made a noise. It sounded a lot like a disgruntled teenage girl. “I am not dragging him into ‘dangerous situations’! He accompanies me to them.”

“No, dude. You don’t even ask him if he wants to go. You just bring him hunting. You know how much he loves the job at the shop. Have you ever asked him how he feels about you just dragging him on random trips across the country for days at a time?”

“Whoa. We only do local stuff now. You know that.”

Sam delivered a class-A bitch face and said, “Dude, Nebraska is not a local job. Driving across the city is a local job.”

Now Dean looked disgruntled. “Cas hasn’t ever complained or said ‘no’ before.”

Sam laughed. “Dude, Cas couldn’t say no to you if you begged him to.”

Dean opened and closed his mouth so many times Sam had to place a hand under his jaw for a moment before Dean stopped and slapped it away. Eloquently, he grumbled, “You’re stupid.”

Sam ignored him. “Bobby’s got Jody and Jo’s got that new boyfriend… No wonder he’s trying to give you a job. Now that demons are pretty much gone and the world isn‘t ending,“ Dean noticed a glint of pride in Sam’s eyes, “it seems everybody is trying to make a life for themselves. No one wants to risk their lives for small jobs when they have something to lose now.”

Dean frowned. He missed when it was just his brother and him, when it was about saving people no matter how big the job. He really hated when he brother made him feel like this. And when he used those puppy eyes that he had fixed on him.

“And Dean, I would really hate it if you got your ass killed again. With everything that’s going on, I’ll need you around with both arms and legs. And a soul.”

“Super irrelevant, man.”

“Dude, you lose that thing more often than you lose socks in the dryer.”

Dean tried to glare at his brother, but a stupid smile was trying to creep onto his lips. Giving up and sighing, Dean retrieved his phone from his pocket and dialed up Bobby. He’d been sacrificing things for Sam his entire life, why stop now?

As he raised the phone to his ear, he glared at his brother and muttered, “I hate you.”

* * *

The bell above the store door chimed so happily they made Dean want to punch them right off their hinges. Cool air breezed past him and out into the world as the door swung closed behind him. The strong smell of hundreds of floral scents mixed in with the sharp smell of birds assaulted his senses as Dean walked further into the flower shop. A random feather floated past him in the air from the cage propped behind cash. A small canary hopped out of an open cage and onto the front desk. Behind said desk sat Castiel, transfixed by some epically boring paper work in front of him.

“Sam is making me quit hunting.”

Without looking up and without looking offended by the lack of proper greeting, Castiel shrugged. “It is probably for the best. You’re getting older. Reflexes are slowing down, your speed isn’t what it used to be. Your strength definitely isn‘t, despite your job at a gym.”

Dean paused, mid-seat, to frown at Cas. “Wow, Cas. Grim. May I remind you that you’re two thousand plus years old and I’m only 30.”

“You’re 33. Turning 34. Technically, my body is only 35.”

Dean rubbed his face with his hands. “Shut up. Listen to my problems.”

Castiel sighed and looked up from the sheets of paper in front of him. “Dean, you know I am always more than happy to be there for you. You are my friend,” Dean ignored the tiny inclination in his voice that sounded a lot like happiness. Perhaps pride. Feelings. Uck. “However, you’re going to have to give me a condensed version of your problem for now. I’m very busy. It’s wedding season.”

Dean rolled his eyes and propped his grumpy face in his hand. He poked at the bird on the counter in boredom. It poked back. “Rude.”

Cas opened his mouth, looking as if he were going to say something, but he visibly stopped himself and sighed, setting aside his order form.

“Please, tell me about your dilemma.”

“Sam made me promise to stop hunting. He made me call Bobby back to pull out.”

“You never pull out.”

“Wrong.” Dean said quickly, grinning at his own crappy joke. Though when Castiel continued to stare at him with confusion, he continued. “Yeah. Okay. This one time I did. Anyway, the stupid moose logic’d the fuck outta me until I agreed to try to...” Dean appeared to be having trouble getting out the later part of his sentence, “… lead a ’regular’ life.”

Cas nodded sympathetically, “He used his dog face.”

“You mean puppy eyes. And yeah, he did. Son of a bitch.” Dean grumbled, picked out a daisy from an unfinished arrangement splayed out on Castiel’s counter, and began picking off the petals slowly. “When he was leaving, he suggested I call Lisa. Remember her? The girl with the mini-me.”

Something flashed across Castiel’s face, but it was gone a second later and he nodded, absentmindedly picking up the petals that Dean was unceremoniously tossing onto the counter. “I remember you speaking of her a couple of times.”

“Yeah. Sam told me to maybe give it a go with her.”

Castiel finally lost interest in his paper work and the flower arrangement. He stood awkwardly - as per usual - behind the counter and fixed Dean with a completely unreadable expression, which was pretty impressive considering ever since becoming human he’d had trouble concealing any kind of emotion. It was especially awkward when they watched animal movies or Disney films.

“And are you going to?” Castiel asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

Dean shrugged. “She’ hot. And her kid is so friggin’ cool.” He paused, tossed aside the now petal-free daisy stem and made a face. “But probably not. She lives far away. Sam is here, Bobby is here. I couldn‘t leave for some chick.”

Again, something weird flashed across Castiel’s face, but then he sighed and returned to the order forms splayed in front of him. He continued arranging flowers and glancing down at the paper as reference. The two sat in silence for a bit, Dean destroying flowers while Castiel ignored it and focused on his work.

Dean watched Cas for a bit, observing his hands and how gentle they were with the flowers. He watched Castiel’s face, observing the line between his eyes when he frowned with concentration. That is, until he realized he had been staring at Cas for longer than he deemed appropriate and forced himself to look away. If I had been him, Dean thought, those flowers be crushed and jammed together as best as possible. But Castiel treated each piece with love and care, as if he was afraid all the petals would break off with the slightest pressure. Somehow, it didn’t seem strange for Castiel to be so soft yet dedicated to his work. Sure, a flower shop was super lame, but Cas seemed to love it.

Dean sniffed, completely bored in the silence. “I don’t know how you stand it in here. Everything smells so damn… pretty.”

Castiel actually smiled. It was small and soft, but the corners of his mouth lifted slightly and when he glanced quickly at Dean, his eyes had a twinkle of amusement in them so small that Dean almost missed it entirely.

“It does smell _pretty_.” The angel paused for a moment, as if he were mulling over something, then he said calmly, “It reminds me of Heaven.”

Oh, thought Dean, this got serious real fast.

Castiel continued, gripping some larger flowers in one hand to slip smaller buds into the outside of the container with the other. “My heaven was quiet, it smelled-” He glanced at Dean, smiling ever so slightly, “ _pretty_. There were a lot of flowers. I believe that‘s why I like it so much.”

Dean groaned. “Dude, why do you make everything so completely sappy? We talked about this.”

Castiel pressed his lips together. “Sam is right. You do ruin everything.”

“Hey. That’s no way to talk to the righteous man.”

Castiel fixed Dean with a look so unimpressed that Dean felt like he was ten again and Missouri was telling him off for pissing on the toilet seat again.

They had a mini staring contest until Cas looked away, shaking his head and returning to his work. Dean slapped a shit-eating grin on his face and picked a flower out from Castiel’s arrangement. He reached out to begin plucking petals off of that one too when Cas snatched it from him and slipped it back into it’s place.

Dean sighed and rested his chin on his hand. “My boss says I’m not invested in my job.”

Without looking up, Cas replied promptly. “But you seem very invested in the young girls.”

Dean scoffed. “They’re legal.”

“In this state.”

Dean ignored him. “He keeps reminding me that he only gave me the job because he’s Bobby’s sponsor at AA. Apparently one of Bobby’s main stresses in life is my well being. He wants me to be ‘happy’ or whatever.”

“But you’re not happy.”

Dean’s heart squeezed a bit, which was weird, but he ignored it. “What? Shut up. I’m totally happy.”

Castiel finally looked at him, but only to fix him with a doubtful gaze and a raised eyebrow. “You might be for now, but you won’t like not hunting, Dean.”

“You don’t know anything, Cas. I‘ve been doing it since I was a kid. I deserve a vacation.” He waved him off and struggled to change subject. “You have some girly flake in your hair.”

Cas glanced in a mirror that hung behind the counter. “That’s a flower petal, Dean.”

He reached up the pick it out, but Dean’s hand was already out stretched. He picked out the flower petal tossed it over his shoulder without any thought. Cas opened and closed his mouth, his eyes slightly wide. Aw, crap. Accidental chick flick moment. Dean cleared his throat and again struggled to change the subject.

“We owe rent at the end of the week.”

Castiel nodded. “I know. I have my portion set aside for this month.”

Dean’s heart sank. “Uh. Me too.”

Castiel sighed. “I’ll pay you for this month, Dean.”

“Thanks, man. I’ll pay you back.” He looked downtrodden for a moment before Dean grinned. “Or we could take out a couple fake credit cards, right? Like old times?”

“You promised Sam that you were done with the hunter life.”

“What? Fake credit cards aren’t hunter business. They‘re… criminal business.”

“We’re not doing that, Dean. We live in a permanent residence. The authorities would find out and arrest us. I don‘t particularly want to go to jail for the rest of my life.”

Dean made a face. “Stupid authorities ruining my fun. Where’s your angel mind erasing voodoo when we need it?”

“In Hell with Crowley.”

Awkward.

“Sam texted me earlier.” Dean said, yet again struggling to change the subject. “He invited us over to his apartment tonight for the Doctor Sexy season premier… which is pretty friggin’ weird because he hates that show.”

“Sarah likes it.”

Dean frowned and nodded. “Oh. Yeah. Whatever.”

Castiel set aside the flower arrangement he’d been working on, pulled a new container from behind the counter, and began filling the bottom with rocks. “But I can’t go. My supervisor is sick and I’m in charge of all deliveries for the next few days until his return. I will be making a delivery to Sioux City tonight. Tell Sam and Sarah I say hello,” He picked up the first arrangement and began walking towards the back room, “and congratulations.”

Dean nodded, “Sure.”

Then he paused and called after Cas as he disappeared through the beaded doorway, “What?”

“Get out. I’m busy.”

\---

Dean stood outside of Sam’s door with a six pack of beer in one hand and a bottle of white wine in the other, going over his final (and many) conclusions as to why he would have to congratulate Sam when the door swung open.

“Dean!” Sam greeted happily, as if he hadn’t seen him just yesterday.

Dean raised the two gifts in his hands and plastered on a grin. “Congratulations!”

The welcoming, happy smile that had been on Sam‘s face began to fade. “What?”

“Uh… congratulations?”

Sam visibly deflated. “Cas told you. I knew he would tell you. Stupid angel can’t keep anything from you. Damn it.”

Dean winced. “Don’t be mad at him. He thinks I’m really awesome. But I knew you’d get promoted soon anyway so no harm no foul.”

Sam paused. “What?”

Dean froze, then he tried, “... _You won the lottery?_ ”

“No.”

Dean grimaced. “You knocked Sarah up?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Get inside. Give me the beer.”

Well, Dean concluded, that guessing game was a failure. He trudged inside and kicked off his shoes. Sam picked them up after him and set them neatly on the rug. Dean collapsed down onto the couch and cracked open a beer, chuckling into it.

“Well, it’s a good thing you didn’t knock her up. You’d have to marry her or something, knowing you.”

Sam clapped a hand to his face and it suddenly dawned on Dean. He was mid-sip when it occurred to him, so Dean chugged the whole thing.

Through watering eyes he blinked at his brother and choked out, as happily as he could fake, “You’re getting _married?!_ ”

Sam looked like he was trying to be annoyed, but a crooked, happy grin broke out on his face again. “Surprise!”

Dean’s heart bounced around his chest cavity for a bit, then took a one way trip out of his ass. He gripped the beer tightly and gaped at his brother, trying really hard to make his vocal cords work properly.

“Yay!” He tried. No. That wasn’t right. He tried again; “Congratulations! Dude, that‘s awesome!”

Success. Sam’s grin widened even more, if that was possible, and he sat down beside Dean, accepting the beer Dean was holding out for him. “Thanks, man.”

Dean reached for another himself, even though his stomach burned from chugging the first one. That, and butterflies were flapping around in there, drowning in beer and screaming for help. He laughed, then realized how nervous it came out sounding, and laughed again, swallowing words with another deep gulp of beer.

Sam was watching him, his grin still plastered there, though his eyes followed Dean’s beer can as it’s butt raised in the air over and over again. “Uh, dude…”

Dean gasped for air and he laughed. “Yeah… _wow_.”

“Are you okay?”

“Me?” Dean asked, his voice high, “Yeah! I’m just… happy. So happy.”

Lies. Like every other time Dean had ever been ‘happy’ in his life, he felt hot and sweaty and nauseous.

Sam laughed, “I know it’s kinda weird. Especially for us. But she makes me so happy, man --’

“Whoa. Chick flick moment --”

Sam ignored him. “I really love her. She’s it for me. She’s my way out.” Dean’s heart, now located somewhere between his butt cheeks, squeezed inexplicably. “I know it’s only been a year and a half, but I feel it, man. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was planning on it. I tried a couple times but I really wanted it to be a surprise. The only reason I told Cas was because I knew he wasn’t going to make it tonight. Dean, are you okay? You‘re really red.”

“I’m so happy.” He raised up the bottle of wine from table. “Is Sarah here?”

Sam hesitated. “Um, no. She’s out telling her friends. I think they’re having a girls night or something. Why?”

Dean opened the white wine so fast he was pretty sure he saw his hands blur. “This is mine then.”

Sam’s eyes followed the bottom of the wine bottle as Dean took a long drink from that too.

“I didn’t know you liked wine.”

Dean made a horrible face and said, “Ugh. Me either. I don’t think I do.”

He took another drink and Sam just shook his head. That stupid happy smile reappeared on his face. “Look, I also wanted to ask you to be my best man.”

Nope, Dean definitely did not like white wine. He choked a little on it. After Sam clapped his back a couple times, and Dean’s face stopped being bright fuchsia, Dean plastered a grin on his face.

“I would love that, Sammy.”

Sam looked so happy Dean wanted to cry. What kind of crying he’d decide later when he was in the shower and completely plastered, but at that moment when Sam was grinning at him and his stupid moose eyes were watery, Dean figured he could definitely act happy.

“Thanks, man. That would mean the world to me. After everything we’ve gone through, I wouldn’t have anyone else beside me.”

Okay, maybe the crying couldn’t wait until later. Dean felt himself getting a bit emotional. He nodded and inhaled deeply. “Yeah, man.”

He said he hated chick flick moments. Why did no one listen to him? He looked down at the floor, trying to blink away the twig.. the branch.. the entire tree in his eye.

Sam continued. “You could ask Cas to help you! We’ll all do it together. I know it’s been harder because I work and because of school and we haven’t been able to see each other enough lately. But it’ll be good. Definitely good for Cas. He needs to get out of that apartment and the shop.” He paused. “And you, too. It’ll keep you busy.” ‘From hunting’ was implied at the end there.

There was a silence, then when Dean moved to look up at his brother, Sam’s long arms came around Dean’s shoulders. Aw, crap. A hug. Dean paused, then hugged back. Normally seated hugging was not allowed in any circumstance when it came to Dean Winchester unless it was with busty, frisky women. But this was the exception. He sniffed and squeezed his brother.

“Congratulations Sammy.”

When they pulled away and Sam made some excuse about going to the bathroom, Dean downed half the bottle of wine.

His head began to swim and warmth pooled in his stomach. On second thought, he could definitely get used to wine.


	3. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> S6 AU (And sort of S5 AU after 5.10 - Ellen dies but Jo lives and Brady doesn't die in 5.20). Set two years after the apocalypse that never happened. When Sam is due to get married and appoints Dean as his best man, chaos ensues. Especially since Sam's rekindled friendship with Brady has been getting in between the Winchesters' brotherly bond. Dean struggles with his life as it doesn't go according to plan, Bobby is in sober and actually happy, Jo has a boyfriend that is much too attractive, and Cas deals with being human a tad poorly. Oh, and why does everyone think Cas and Dean are boyfriends?

The white wine definitely helped Dean at first.

It helped make his insides warm and keep him quiet as Sam went on about picking out the ring and proposing to Sarah. It would have been pretty awesome, and he would’ve been a bit happier for Sam if he wasn’t seized by the crippling fear that this would be the final action before he and Sam were complete strangers. Turned out, Sam was also moving.

He was moving to New York with Sarah. When he delivered that bit of news, the white wine wasn’t so helpful anymore. Dean excused himself and it ended up floating around in Sam’s toilet bowl. When he returned to the living room, he tried out smiling and laughing ‘happily’. The laughing turned into hiccups, then morphed into sniffles and crying. ’Happily’ of course.

Sam drove him home.

At home, Dean grabbed a six pack from his and Castiel’s fridge and took it with him to the couch. He turned on the TV and watched the repeat of Doctor Sexy’s season premier. He told himself he was tearing up over Doctor Sexy’s heart wrenching angst over Patricia, the meek, but beautiful new intern. Her residency was coming to a close and her new job started across the country. Dean finished the entire six pack in the 42 minute episode. By the end of it, he had moved onto the hard stuff. In one hand he clutched Jack Daniels and in the other, he held his phone to his ear.

Dean called Cas seven times. After this final attempt he jammed his phone between the cushions in frustration. Where the hell was Cas? It was late. Maybe. The numbers on the digital clock above the TV were swimming too much for him to tell.

Luckily, a couple minutes later, Cas opened the door. He had enough time to step inside and look up before Dean whipped a pillow at his face.

“You sonava… You know what? I thought you’d been p-possessed.” He slurred, his face turning about thirteen shades of red. “I thought the angels had come back fer you’ an’ … an’ they were rippin’ you a brand new asshole, asshole. I thought… Cas. Cas, _I’m panicking._ ”

Castiel rushed forward, bringing his hands up to Dean’s shoulders. He steadied him and held him upright. Damn. He was pretty strong for a nerdy little dude.

“Dean --”

“Cas.” Dean’s voice cracked. “He’s getting married. And he’s moving. He’s getting married an’ moving away with some chick to New York to be a rich, fancy douche bag lawyer. He’s moving…” Dean was sweating now and turning a deep shade of purple. “He’s moving to New York. Now _I_ gotta move to New York.”

“Dean--”

Dean interrupted again, releasing what was definitely not a sob, “Castiel! I’m panicking! I don’t wanna move to New York!”

“You are incredibly rude some times.” murmured Castiel. Sometimes it seemed that it was easier now as a human to ruffle Castiel’s feathers than it was when he’d actually had feathers.

“What?!” Dean asked, confused. He was visibly trying to calm his breathing. Castiel, the trooper, didn’t lean away as Dean leaned forward and graced him with probably very booze-y breath as he continued. “Cas, I’m freaking the fuck out here. My brother is getting married to some chick he met not even a year ago and he’s … he’s so fancy. When did Sam learn to be so _fancy_ … Are those burgers?”

Castiel slowly guided Dean back onto the couch and sat him down. He frowned down at Dean and held up a brown grease-stained bag in the air. Dean blinked up at him and looked like an upset toddler. “I’ve been trying to tell you I brought you burgers. I assumed you would not be taking the news very well.”

Dean looked away and rubbed his face, before narrowing his eyes over Castiel’s shoulder. “Fuck you. I’m composed.”

Castiel tilted his head a bit, staring into Dean’s face. “The vein in your forehead is protruding rather visibly.”

It figures Castiel would begin to develop a sense of humor at the exact moment Dean was suffering through a mid-life crisis. Dean returned his glare to Castiel’s face.

His roommate sighed and sat down beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder, right over the faded hand print.

“You don’t have to move, Dean.”

“I really don’t want to move to New York. Pigeons are disgusting.”

“Dean, you don’t have to move to New York.” Castiel repeated, trying what sounded to be his best at a consoling voice.

Dean wiped his nose on his wrist loudly and sighed. “But Sam’s going to New York. I can’t live without Sam.”

Oops. Accidental chick flick moment. And this one was self-inflicted. Even completely piss-drunk Dean told himself he needed to desensitize the moment.

“I mean, I could. I could live without him, but it would friggin’ _blow_. And I mean, Sarah‘s cool but who‘s gonna save him when he makes his moose-sized mistakes?”

Cas sighed. “Sam doesn’t need saving anymore, Dean.”

Something inside Dean snapped. He shrugged Castiel off and replied, “Sam always needs saving, Cas. I‘m his big brother. It‘s my job to keep an eye on him.”

Castiel’s hand lingered in the air for a moment beside Dean’s shoulder, then it dropped into his own lap and he nodded.

“Let’s get you to bed. It seems you‘ve had a long day.”

Dean ignored him and groaned, dropping his head into his hands. Muffled and barely audible, he whispered. “What am I gonna do now, Cas?”

Castiel was silent beside him. Dean briefly wondered what Cas looked like right now, but he felt suddenly as if he was going to hurl all over if he lifted his head even an inch. After trial and major error, Dean re-evaluated his decision and decided he most definitely did not enjoy wine.

“You’re going to get up, spend the entire night vomiting, and in the morning when you wake up on the floor, you’ll have forgotten all about this talk.”

“I didn’t mean what I was gonna do _right now_.”

“Oh. I don’t know. But you have several months to decide before you make any decisions. My suggestion is that you let you brother move on and live his own li--”

Dean’s head snapped up and he held his hand in front of Castiel’s face. Oh boy. Bad idea. What was going to be “shut the fuck up, you don’t know what you’re saying” came out;

“Shit. I’m gonna hurl.”

And he did, all over their floor. Fantastic. Another stain in the carpet that they couldn’t afford to clean. Castiel’s consoling speech never made the final cut because the rest of the night he spent telling Dean that no, he wasn‘t going to die and yes his puke was supposed to be that colour.

Turns out he was mostly right - by morning, Dean didn’t remember a thing. Well, most of it. And if he did remember he had blocked out most of the bits where he was in tears, throwing pillows, and biting Castiel’s head off for being logical. The only error in Castiel’s prediction was that Dean didn’t end up on the floor of the bathroom.

Instead, as per usual with his drunken stints, he ended up in Cas’ bed with a towel under his head and a bucket by the night stand. And a former angel laid down behind him, struggling to stay awake so he could keep watch over his charge, one hand resting on his hand print and the other on his own new beating heart.

\- - -

Dean didn’t know if it had to do with him or his group of friends, but ‘hello’ never seemed to be the logical or regular greeting with the lot of them. When the door of Bobby’s house swung open, the older man snorted.

“Yeah. I figured you’d handle the news well.” He chuckled. Bobby was a chuckler now. Being sober and getting laid did that to a man, apparently.

“Hello to you too. Also fuck you.”

Bobby shut the door behind him and glared. “Watch your mouth, boy, or I’ll kick your ass right back out the door.”

Dean had the decency to look embarrassed. He murmured an apology and felt Bobby clap him on the back. Well, he may be a chuckler but he also seemed to be quicker to forgive these days, which was a plus.

“Want a drink?” Bobby asked, walking into the kitchen.

Dean paused in his pursuit and frowned. “Bobby? I‘m pretty sure AA has rules about that.”

Bobby disappeared behind the fridge door and when he reappeared, he had two water bottles in his hand. “Calm down, idjit. It’s just water. Have a little faith in me, will yah?”

Again, Dean flushed with embarrassment. “Sorry, Bobby.”

Bobby nodded and then tossed the bottle at Dean. He caught it and followed the older man into the sitting room. They sat down and when Dean looked up, Bobby was smirking at him.

“Doesn’t look like you took the news too well.”

Dean tried to look offended, “What?”

“You look like you drank yourself under the table last night.”

Dean flushed again. He was fairly certain he’d maintained a steady flush since he walked through the door. Bobby snorted and shook his head.

“Figures watching your brother get happier and happier would make you more miserable than usual.”

Dean looked hurt. “Bobby, what the hell?”

He hated that all-knowing look that Bobby was giving him. “Don’t pretend with me, boy. I can see right through you. It’s a perk of knowing you better than you know yourself.” Bobby paused, looking ruffled. “Sammy is happy and successful. He’s living the life he wants, could you just slap a smile on your face and be unhappy behind his back like a regular person?”

Dean frowned. He took a moment to evaluate whether or not it would be worth it to bullshit Bobby. He decided not. Exhaling heavily, he looked up at Bobby and murmured, “That’s what I thought I was doing.”

“Sam called me last night and told me you got so drunk at his house that you broke down into tears.”

Damn it, Sam. Dean laughed nervously. “What? I don’t remember that.”

He did. Dean rubbed the back of his neck and drank deeply from the bottle of water in his hand until the bottle twisted and made loud cracking noises. He wished Bobby wasn’t in AA so he might still have something stronger lying around, but the thought was instantly dismissed by guilt.

“I was just surprised, Bobby. He never mentioned to me that he was thinking of proposing. This came out of nowhere. I mean, did you see this coming?” Dean asked.

Bobby raised his eyebrows. “Uh, yes.”

“Really?” Dean asked meekly. Well, fuck. He seemed to be the only person who was shocked by Sam Winchester getting married, moving away, and settling down with a fancy lawyer job.

“Do you not know Sam at all?” Bobby snapped.

Dean looked up at Bobby, his face a mixture of surprise and hurt. “What? Of course I do.”

“Then you’ll know this is what he’s always wanted.”

Dean took a very keen interest in the patters of Bobby’s old rug and shrugged. “Yeah, Bobby. I know.”

“So don’t pretend like you are completely surprised. Sure, he didn’t tell you he was moving but it was because he expected you to act like this.”

“Well, jeeze, Bobby. Be a little more harsh on me.”

Bobby scowled. “If I knew I was gonna have a little kid over I would’ve offered you a sippy cup.”

Dean fixed Bobby with an expressionless face that nevertheless communicated how unimpressed he was with Bobby’s sense of humor.

“Hilarious. You wanna explain why you’re rippin’ into me today?”

Bobby sighed and replied a bit softer, “I’m just disappointed,” (Dean’s heart sank) “I was hopin’ you’d prove us all wrong and actually be happy for Sam. You two lost more and fought for more than anyone I’ve ever known. You sacrificed yourselves for each other so many times I figure you might be happy to let Sam live the life you two, and Cas,” He added, “worked so hard to let him have.”

Dean squeezed the empty water bottle in his hand so hard that it made a loud noise. He cleared his throat. “I’m trying, okay?” He murmured,` “I just found out my brother is moving away and moving on while I‘m here. Cut me some slack.”

Bobby’s face visibly softened and he nodded. “I know. But, son,” Dean looked up and Bobby made a point of keeping eye contact, his eyes more welcoming than usual, “you can’t make your brother feel guilty for wanting to marry the girl he loves. You‘re not the only person in his life anymore. He‘s got more family now, more friends. If you wanna stay in his life, you gotta accept everyone else in it.”

“Everyone? I have to like everyone?” Dean groaned. Bobby snorted and rolled his eyes, settling back against the couch.

“Accept ’em. I didn’t say you have to like ’em.”

Dean watched Bobby chuckle for a moment, and then he followed suit, glad that the tension was defused. “Good. Because I am never liking Brady. That guy is a mega douche bag.”

Bobby nodded, “I’m gonna agree with you on that one, though he’s been helping Sam out a hell of a lot lately. You have to be thankful for that.”

“I’m pretty sure Sam could get any job he wanted.” Dean replied proudly. “Stupid kid is a genius.”

They both paused to re-evaluate that, and Dean was glad when Bobby only rolled his eyes and offered, “The leg up never hurt anyone. And he did pull in that favour from your landlord to get you that apartment for cheap. If it wasn’t for him you and Cas would bunking with me still.”

Dean’s eyes widened a bit at one of the more graphic memories he had of his post-apocalypse stay at Bobby‘s. “I am pretty thankful for that, yeah.”

“You could always move back in, you know. Cas mentioned to me that money is getting tight.“ He fixed Dean with a curious look. “Apparently _you_ haven’t been able to pay rent for a couple months.”

Dean actually blushed. “Uh, that’s a bit of an exaggeration.” It wasn’t. “It’s just a sales job at a small gym doesn’t really pay much.”

“You could always work in my garage.”

Dean frowned. “No, Bobby. I’m not gonna use you for a job.”

“I’m just offerin’. There’s a room upstairs for you if you need one. I wouldn’t mind if you moved in. An extra pair of hands around here wouldn‘t hurt.”

Dean shook his head furiously. “No. No… uh. No.”

After walking in on Bobby and Sherrif Mills in the panic room one time, he never ever wanted to bunk at Bobby’s again. He made sure to be extremely loud walking around the house after that incident.

He never really pictured Sherrif Mills being into latex, though he understood where the hand cuffs came from. And he definitely never pictured Bobby being okay with being tied down to a bed. Oh god. He had to stop remembering. He had to. He was already hung over and nauseous and the memory wasn’t helping.

“No, I never want to move in again.”

“Suit yourself.” Bobby said gruffly, his cheeks a tint of red. It seemed the incident was burned into his mind, too.  
\- - -

The engagement party was so elaborate it very well could have been the wedding itself.

Dean pulled up front of a very large, older Victorian building. The front and sides were covered in ivy and driveway was lined in statues. As the Impala roared up to the building, Dean peered out of the windshield in distaste.

“Oh, _look_. A valet. They have a freakin’ valet. You know who has valets, Cas?”

From the passenger seat, Castiel was peering around, curious and not at all unhappy like Dean was. As a matter of fact, he seemed rather cheery. Dean couldn’t decide whether that a good or bad thing.

“People who need their cars parked?” Castiel offered.

Dean shot Castiel a severely peeved look out of the corner of his eye. “Very funny.”

Castiel glanced at Dean curiously, tilting his head a bit. He seemed to be trying to figure out when he’d told a joke.

Dean pulled up to the art gallery and put his baby in park. He looked over at Cas, then looked him up and down.

“When did you get a _tailored suit_? That thing actually fits you for crying out loud.” He asked, reaching over and smoothing his hand over Cas’ suit. God, that thing felt expensive.

Castiel actually blushed a bit and he looked around anxiously. “Sam bought it for me. I insisted that he didn’t, but he told me it was a gift.” When Dean’s expression changed from annoyed to more freakin’ annoyed, Cas added, “It’s rude to turn down gifts, Dean. You were the one who taught me that.”

Dean looked ruffled. “Dude, I bought you a beer one friggin‘ time. It’s rude to turn down a beer, but damn, Cas, this must’ve cost a fortune.”

Cas didn’t look happy anymore. He looked down at the suit and shifted uncomfortably. “Human etiquette is complicated.”

“Whatever. You look good. Let’s go.” He said grouchily, pushing open the door with more force than necessarily and slid outta the car. He missed the small smile Castiel flashed him before he followed suit.

As the valet approached him, Dean held out his keys, but stopped him before the young man could accept them. Dean leaned in close and said, “If you leave one scratch on my baby, I will find out your name, come into your house, and shoot you once in each leg. You’ll never be able to park a car ever again.”

“Or walk.” Castiel added.

“Thank you, Cas.” Dean murmured awkwardly, never removing his intense stare from the horrified valet’s face.

\---

“Oh God,” Dean groaned, as they entered the art gallery. He ignored an annoyed glance from Castiel and shook his head up at the high ceiling and antique looking mahogany spiral staircases. “Look at this place. You can practically smell the money in the air. This place looks like it needs a good haunting. Wouldn‘t that be awesome, Cas?”

Castiel ignored him and raised his hand in greeting to someone over Dean’s shoulder. Dean followed the gesture and saw Sam weaving through the crowd towards them. He was stopped about ten times by guests to hug and shake hands. There was a double cheek kiss in there somewhere. Dean was working very hard on keeping his eyes planted firmly on his brother and not rolling back into his head. When a waiter passed Dean and Cas, Dean took the opportunity to grab a handful of mini quiche and shoved them into his mouth hastily.

When Sam finally got to them, he was practically glowing. “Hey, guys. I‘m so glad you‘re here.”

Dean grinned at his brother, mini quiche poking out of the sides of his mouth. Sam was so happy he didn’t even shoot him the bitch face. Instead, he laughed.

“Gross, dude.” He turned his gaze to look at Cas and clapped him on the shoulder, “Nice suit.”

Castiel nodded and glanced down at his attire, then over at Dean so quickly that Dean missed it entirely.

“Thank you, Sam. I appreciate your gift.” Castiel outstretched his hand and said genuinely, “Congratulations, Sam.”

Sam looked down at the hand and took it in both of his. “Thanks, Cas.”

Sam glanced at his brother, as if waiting for something, but the moment passed and he nodded, turning around to gesture to the gallery lobby. “Nice, huh? Sarah’s dad really went all out. I can‘t believe he closed the Gallery for us on such short notice.”

Dean, practically hearing Bobby’s voice in his head, nodded. “Yeah, man. The ceilings are… tall.” Rich asshole.

Even Castiel, who had the social skills of a pre-schooler, glanced at Dean and raised his eyebrow. Sam wasn’t letting Dean put him off. He grabbed Dean by the arm and led them inside.

“So I made my final decision on who my groomsmen are gonna be. There‘s seven of you. ” Sam said with excitement that he had obviously tried to mask. Dean could practically hear the skip in Sam’s step.

“Really?” Dean asked with disbelief. Sam had that many friends?

Sam continued on as he led them through the huddles of guests, seemingly missing Dean’s tone of voice or just ignoring it all together. “Yeah. Bobby, obviously. Rufus, Cas…” Dean glanced over at Casitel, who’s lips had a ghost of a smile on them. Sam continued listing off his party, “…Jo, Adam, and Brady.”

Dean groaned loudly. “What? Why?”

Sam looked bashful for a moment, his cheeks tinted a shade of red. “I just want everyone who helped us win to be part of my wedding. It was important to Sarah and me to have all of our close friends and family to be as involved as possible.”

“I didn’t mean that, dude.” Dean said, embarrassed. “I was just asking why Brady is part all this. He didn’t help us win anything. He just fucked it--”

“He helped me after we won, Dean. That‘s important to me too.” Sam said sternly. Dean closed his mouth and bit his tongue. It was Sam’s engagement party. Even Dean, as hot-headed as he was, didn’t want to ruin it for Sam.

So Dean nodded and said quietly, “Right.”

Sam smiled again. “Let’s go say hi to everyone.”

Dean peered around at all the strange faces and grimaced. “So you mean there are people we actually know here?”

Sam grinned, looking around at all the party guests. “Funny. Yeah, Sarah might’ve gone a bit overboard with her side of the guest list. But her parents are paying for the wedding so we figured it would be fair for them to invite anyone they wanted. A lot of these people are her Dad’s business associates and friends from their country club too.”

Dean wondered if Sam knew how douchey he sounded. He just nodded and elbowed his brother in the ribs. “Alright, fancy pants. Lead us to our people.”

\- - -

Dean was not particularly surprised to find Rufus, Bobby, and Jody all lingering around the bar. Rufus drank from a glass tumbler and blathered on about something. Bobby watched Rufus’ drink slosh around his glass almost longingly while Jody narrowed her eyes at him from his peripherals.

As the three men approached them, Rufus raised his glass to Sam and grinned. “Look at this place. You choose ‘em good. Open bar, too. Sarah’s parents have good taste.”

Sam laughed and shook Rufus’ hand as he offered it to him. “Thanks Rufus.”

The hunter smiled at Sam and then winked at Dean. “So when do I get to meet Cas?”

Dean blinked and then glanced at Cas, who seemed equally confused and yet remained silent. “What?”

“Bobby told me you moved in with a ‘Cas’. Who’s the lucky lady you finally settled down with?

“What? No --”

Bobby chimed in quickly, “ Rufus --”

But the hunter ignored him and said with a devilish grin, “’Cas’ sounds like a sexy name. You know how to pick ‘em, too. Don‘t know what it is about you Winchesters. You always get the most beautiful ladies.”

“Rufus, Cas isn’t a girl.” Sam laughed. He couldn’t sound more gleeful if he tried.

Rufus’ eyes widened. He looked between Bobby (who was turning red in the face from contained laughter), “Whoa. I’m a little busy for a year and I come back to this? When’d you switch teams, boy?”

Dean choked on his words a few times before he snapped, “Rufus! ‘Cas’ is Castiel. I moved in with Castiel.”

Rufus was silent for a minute, his expression focused, as if the gears were turning and slowly clicking into place. “Oh. That makes more sense. Sorry, Castiel. I didn‘t make that connection for some reason…”

He and Cas exchanged a nod of agreement. Then Rufus held his hand out to Dean and said very seriously, “Glad you two found each other.”

Dean was going to punch someone. Jody and Bobby had turned away completely and Dean watched their shoulders shaking in the background. “Rufus I’m not gay with Cas! God damn!”

Rufus sipped from his glass and looked up at Dean. “I’m sorry. You’re gonna have to explain this to me again. You lost me.”

\- - -

When Rufus started talking about a recent case of his that involved a succubus, a lot of blood, and apparently a lot of ejaculate, Dean, Sam, and Cas made a swift exit. Dean felt a slight tang of jealousy that Rufus was hunting, while Cas seemed to be so overwhelmed by the amount of cum and blood that it just seemed logical to take their leave at that point. Sam was right -- Cas would never survive 4Chan.

Their reunion with Jo went a lot smoother than with Rufus, though just barely. Jo caught Dean’s eye as the three men made their way over to her, her excitement barely restrained. She waved and smiled at Dean. His heart fluttered a bit in a completely platonic way. Yup.

“Dean! Hi!” She exclaimed, pulling into him a one armed hug. He never pegged Jo as a hugger, but losing her mom, surviving the apocaplyse and meeting a hunter boyfriend, who was far more attractive than Dean was really comfortable with, changed a girl somewhat. She pulled away and grinned up at Dean. Okay, maybe she hadn’t changed so much. In her eye, there was a sassy little twinkle. “What’s up, loser?”

Dean grinned. “Hey dweeb. Where have you been lately?”

Jo turned to her boyfriend. He was broad, dark featured, and about a foot taller than Dean. Jo exchanged a smile with him and turned back to Dean. “Hunting up in Canada. Bronco’s from there and I hadn’t been there really except for the one job, when I met him. We’ve been working up there until now. So Dean, this is Bronco. Bronco, meet Dean Winchester. He‘s a royal pain.”

Dean made at face at her playfully. “Shut up, stupid.” He turned to her boyfriend and grinned, “So you’re Canadian, _eh_?”

Not only was his impression bad, but so was the joke. Dean laughed weakly and raised his eyebrows at Sam, who was shaking his head and tossing around major bitch face. Jo just rolled her eyes. Somehow he suspected she had expected that.

Jo took Castiel’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “Bronco, this is Cas.”

The two men shook hands politely. Bronco pointed at Cas for a moment, then glanced at Dean. “Is this your boyfriend?”

Dean threw his hands up in the air. “Really? _Really_ , Jo?”

Jo blushed and laughed, slapping her boyfriend in the stomach. “Bronco, I was just joking. They‘re not actually gay. Just joined at the hip and devoted to each other forever,” She kidded, grinning at Dean, whose blank, unimpressed stare failed to falter.

Bronco glanced sideways at her in confusion, as if he was pretty sure she hadn’t been joking, but forced out and laugh followed by an apology for the mix up.

The conversation continued much more smoothly after that tiny road bump. Why did everyone think they were gay? First everyone thought he’d been Sam, now it was Cas. Did Dean seem the type? No, no. He thought. Sam and Cas definitely seemed the types. They had to. Sure, he was the common denominator, but it couldn’t be him…

As Sam, Jo, and Cas conversed about the wedding, Dean noticed Bronco staring at him and he tossed him a smile, unsure of what else to do when a stranger he was supposed to like was observing him so closely. The usual “fuck off, ass clown” couldn’t be applied here.

He wanted to try “Can I help you with something?” But instead, he said, “Nice party, huh?”

Bronco nodded briefly, then said in a hushed voice, “Jo told me what you and your brother did in Kansas two years ago.”

Dean shrugged, embarrassed now. Of course, not that there was anything particularly humiliating about saving the world, but despite Dean’s apparently enormous ego, he didn’t like taking credit for doing what was right, not to mention forced on him. Sorry -- “destiny”.

Bronco continued, his voice still quiet. Dean felt his intense dark eyes boring into the side of his head. “She said your brother sent all the demons back to Hell.”

Well, most of them, he thought, remembering how easy it had been to summon Crowley. He figured some crazy Satan worshipper or another would’ve already tried to bring forth some demon somewhere in the world. Then again, that prick, Crowley, had the swipe card to Hell handy. So perhaps not.

Dean forced himself to meet Bronco’s eyes and he nodded. “Yeah. Heart of a lion, that guy.”

Despite how nonchalant Dean continued to handle what happened to Sam, he really did believe what he said. Sam had more heart than anyone he had met or would ever meet. He remembered that moment in Stull Cemetery, the flicker of recognition when Sam finally overcome the devil. He remembered the softer, warmer look in Sam’s face when he finally met his eye. He could practically hear his brother whisper “It’s okay, Dean. I got him.” before he used his demon powers one last time to banish every demonic evil back to Hell and jumped into the hole himself. Stupid kid with his sacrificial, compassionate, considerate streak- right up until the end.

“…really brave. I totally admire you two. And Cas. I heard what he did for you, too. Which is why, y’know, I thought you two… It just seemed more like true love than friendship, giving up your life and your soul, grace, whatever to save your friend’s brother... That‘s some devotion.”

Dean tuned in to hear this and felt suddenly very uncomfortable with the level of knowledge this complete stranger had about his life. He looked away -- anywhere really that wasn’t Bronco’s admiring eyes. Dean looked across the group to find Castiel staring at him, something very intense about his eyes. Either he’d overheard or he was thinking really hard about something that happened to be on Dean’s face.

Dean held the intense blue gaze, his stomach knotting up for some reason, until a heavy hand came down on his shoulder and he jumped. Sam grinned down at him.

“You can avoid this all you want, but you’re going to go say hi to Adam.”

“But I don’t wanna.”

Sam steered Dean away, politely excusing them from the group. Sam pushed Dean towards Adam, who was sulking in the corner with a beer clutched tightly in his hand. In his ear, Sam was lecturing.

“… what he did for us. He was in Hell with me, Dean. We put him there, we owe him at least some brotherhood. Remember - family? He’s our brother. Go be brotherly.”

“But I don’t wanna.”

“Dean.” Sam’s growl was clearly not playful anymore.

Dean groaned. “Dude, his life is shit because of us.”

“Yeah,” replied Sam, giving Dean a final push, “So go be sincere or something.”

Dean turned around to face Sam, looking constipated. “You can’t make me do this. He hates me.”

Sam was already walking away. He swiftly grabbed a champagne glass off a passing tray, and turned back only to point right at Dean. “Go fucking talk to him. Now. If you love me, you will.”

Motherfucker. Dean turned on his heel and walked pointedly towards Adam, wishing dearly that Sam had at least let him down a champagne glass first.

The conversation actually wasn’t as awkward as he had anticipated. Well, not as painfully awkward but essentially just as uncomfortable as usual. Dean made crap jokes in attempt to lighten the mood and Adam glared at him. It appeared he was still sour about the whole Michael ordeal. Possession by an archangel, a stint in Hell, and still no mother to boot. Yeah, he had a reason to be kinda pissed, but Dean figured he should’ve moved on since then. Maybe be able to smile once and a while… though Dean wondered whether or not that scowl was permanently etched on Adam’s face at this point.

It only got really awkward when Castiel joined them and Dean found himself having to drag the former angel away from Adam- the youngest Winchester looked about ready to punch him right out. Castiel had the best intentions, yes, but perhaps Sam’s engagement party wasn’t the best place to try to apologize on behalf of the angels for Adam’s role in the apocalypse. Sure, he grabbed him out of Hell, but Dean’s half-brother was still sort of bitter about his whole role in the grand scheme of things.

“I know you’re trying to be nice to him, but saying things like ‘sorry for letting Zach use you’ probably doesn’t help. It’s also a couple years late.”

“I am just trying to make amends.” Castiel replied, sounding a bit chagrined.

“Mend some other time. It is time to drink.” Dean said, grabbing two tall champagne glasses from a passing waiter’s tray and handing one to Cas.

“Why?” Castiel asked, puzzled. He peered down at the bubbly drink and took a sip. The face he made would have been hilarious, with his wrinkly nose and little “blegh!”, if Dean wasn’t so busy staring across the room looking pained.

Sam was waving him over to Brady. From the corner of his mouth, Dean murmured, “Because I have to go talk to Sam and his fucking shadow.”

Dean approached his brother, a smile forced onto his lips. Dean raised a glass to his brother and drank deeply.

Sam grinned happily and looked from his brother to his friend. “Dean, have you talked to Brady yet today?”

Dean opened his mouth to say something probably very grouchy, but Brady laughed charmingly and held out his hand. Dean peered at it distastefully for a moment, before he looked up at Brady through hooded eyes. He then shot Brady a smile and shook his extended hand.

“Dean, hello. How have you been?”

“Great, Brady.” There was a pause where he glanced at his brother and noticed the changes in Sam’s face that indicated a bitch face was brewing. Dean cleared his throat. “And you? Still selling fatal disease to civilians?”

Sam hissed his name but Brady just waved Sam off and smiled calmly, “That wasn’t me, Dean. We know that. How is the job at the gym?”

“It’s… working out.” Dean said, grinning stupidly at his own pun. Sam seemed to be torn between maintaining bitch face and smiling. Brady’s smile didn’t falter.

“Fantastic. Fantastic. I’m glad to hear that.” He said politely.

Brady glanced at Sam, his lip twitching slightly at the corner for a moment, before it was gone and he looked back at Dean, his dark eyes boring into Dean’s. “So are you excited for the wedding? I heard you were quite… overwhelmed by the news.”

Dean’s cheeks heated up. He fought to resist punching Sam right in the stomach in front of all his soon-to-be family and friends for telling Brady about his drunken shenanigan. Instead, Dean attempted his own charming smile. His eyes flashed as he returned Brady’s challenging stare.

“I’m pumped,” He replied. “as I should be, considering I’m Sammy’s best man.”

Brady grinned, his teeth sparkling in the daylight shining through the window.

Dean wondered if he himself also looked like a friggin’ super model in this lighting.

Brady raised his glass to Dean. “Looks as if we’ll be working very closely on this wedding, then. Mr Blake used to be one of my father’s associates, and is now one of my own. Since he’s so close with Sarah, and Sam and I are like best friends, we’ll be trying out best to make this wedding as perfect as possible.”

“You don’t have to do that, Brady.” Sam insisted, and Dean had a strange feeling the two of them were making reference to something outside of this conversation.

“Oh, Sam. It’s nothing. Just a small gesture.”

“Wha--” Dean was about to ask, when Brady interrupted him.

“Dean, it was fantastic seeing you. I hope to work closely with you as the wedding nears. Excuse me while I go greet Madame Blake.”

When Brady disappeared into the crowd, Dean turned to Sam, his mouth open and ready, when Sam clapped a hand right over it.

“He’s great, isn’t he?

Dean’s instinct was the slap Sam’s hand away, scoff, and punch him in the stomach after telling him off for being bossy. But Sam’s eyes sparkled pleasingly and he was raising his eyebrows in question. It was like a puppy begging for a treat. Dean sighed and pushed Sam’s hand away.

With as much enthusiasm as he could muster, which turned out to be none, Dean said, “Awesome. He’s freakin’ awesome.”

\- - -

“The first time I met Samuel, he and his brother were sneaking into one of my auctions under false names.” Sarah’s father, Daniel, told the crowd.

“When I met him once again a year and a half ago, I thought, ‘Not this guy again’. What a trouble maker.” The crowd laughed and Dean threw Sam a look. Even from across the room he could spot the flush creeping up Sam’s neck and peering over the collar. Her father continued, his expression softening.

“But so is my little girl. As hard as her mother and I tried to shelter her, Sarah was always finding herself in some sort of trouble or another, the rascal.” Daniel winked at his daughter, receiving a wide, happy smile from her. He returned the gesture and continued, reverting his gaze to Sam. “I tried my best to protect her.” He paused again. “But now I’m passing that responsibility to Sam, and I have no regrets. You two continue to protect each other, never stop loving each other, and embrace your successes together. Samuel, I already think of you as my son --”

Dean caught Castiel’s gaze and rolled his eyes, though Cas stared back in confusion. The look very much said ‘why are your eyes doing that?’

Dean resisted a groan and returned his attention to the speech.

“-- but I want to formally invite and welcome you into our family. I truly look forward to it.” He raised a glass in the air and finished, “May we all share a toast in celebration of the future union of Sam Winchester and Sarah Blake.”

While everyone cheered and clinked glasses, Dean leaned over and whispered into Castiel’s ears, “He’s talking about penetration.”

Castiel choked on the champagne and Dean leaned back, grinning into his own cup. That was, until Sarah’s father called him up.

“And now, to say a word or two is Sam’s older brother and best man, Dean Winchester.” He paused. “If that is your real name.”

As the crowd chuckled, Dean turned to Castiel, who was wiping champagne off his chin, and whispered. “Dude, what do I say?”

“Well, he only said ‘a word or two’. I suggest ‘unprepared’ and perhaps ‘lazy’, if you‘re feeling ambitious.”

Oh. Fantastic. More of Castiel’s new sense of humor. Dean made a mental note to punch him in the balls later.

Putting on a brave face, he weaved through the crowd, making sure to punch Sam on the shoulder as he passed him. Dean hopped on stage and collected the microphone from Sarah’s father, who peered at him through cool eyes. Okay, so he still hadn’t gotten over the false identity thing.

Dean peered out into the crowd and felt himself start to sweat. There had been a reason he’d failed high school on the first try. He skipped class whenever he needed to give speeches because he’d been horrified by the thought of making them.

“Uh, hi.” He said awkwardly. Sam was grinning at him through the crowd, enjoying every embarrassing second of this. Castiel looked worried. Dean caught Bobby’s eye and saw his moustache twitching even from afar. Dean cleared his throat and continued.

“I’m Dean, Sam’s brother and overall superior.”

People actually laughed a bit, which boosted Dean’s confidence a little bit. He panicked a bit about what to say next, and mentally reviewed Daniel’s speech. Funny yet genuine. He could do that. He could.

Well, he could try.

“Sam knows pretty well how minimal I like to keep the chick flick moments, so we’ll keep this short and sweet.” Dean laughed nervously and continued on, finally catching his brother’s eye and holding it. “Dude, I’m really happy for you. Sarah is a really great girl--” He winked at Sarah, who grinned at him, her eye twinkling devilishly. “-- she’s funny, and she’s smart, and she’s really beautiful. I pretty much raised you -- I wouldn’t give you away to just anyone, but I’m more than happy give full custody to Sarah. It takes some serious strength to resist puppy eyes or bitch faces, though she probably already knows that.”

Dean paused to let Sarah and Sam exchange looks, and then he continued, “I mean, I‘m gonna miss our hunting trips, and you _know_ you’re gonna miss my Impala.” The crowd actually laughed again, though Dean was smiling now even without their support. “Not that it’s ever really gonna be the same.”

Sam started blinking quickly and Dean could already tell this was too much of a chick flick moment already, so he wrapped up. “Anyway, best of luck to the both of you. So toast away to Sarah for taking on this mighty task of marrying my stupid brother. What a trooper!”

The crowd laughed and clinked glasses. Dean hopped so quickly off stage he blurred. He walked over to Sam, who punched him in the shoulder and then pulled him into a hug.

“I am gonna miss the Impala.” Sam murmured, still holding Dean close. “There isn’t gonna be any other car like the Impala, ever. Dean, I --”

Sam was interrupted by a voice on the mic. He pulled away from his brother and looked up on stage, his lips twisted into an amused smile. Dean turned around to face the speaker, already knowing what douchebaggery was stealing his thunder.

“Sammy boy,” Brady said charmingly, his tone suggesting that his brother’s name was some sort of inside joke that no one understood. Dean was instantly enraged. He partially wanted to see what Sam thought of Brady using his nickname, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from that stupid, ugly attractive face on stage.

“Sammy, do you remember spring break in freshman year? Remember that skiing trip?“ Brady laughed quietly, as if he were remembering something so _hilarious_. “You, Mark, Richard, Rob, and I all went up to Mark’s chalet that week and on the last night, we all got _plastered_.”

“Classy.” Dean hissed, though Sam was paying such close attention to the story that he either ignored Dean completely or hadn’t heard him at all.

“Anyway, the last night you and I sat on the roof of your old, crappy little blue car and drank until four in the morning.”

Dean felt like he was going to puke.

“Man, that was the first time I ever felt like I had a real friend.” Brady smiled at Sam, who no doubt was smiling back like a lovesick loser. “After being completely shunned in high school for being richer than most of the other children--”

“First world problems.” Dean murmured to a short, old asian man beside him. The man blinked up at him, then glared. Dean turned back to Brady, murmuring something about a tough crowd.

“I had been convinced I would never fit in anywhere, but you, Sam, you brought me into your group and made me feel like a regular guy. My life will never be like it was back then, but that’s all right because that first year of college was easily the best year of my life. Thank you, Sam, for making me feel like I was accepted. You will never know how grateful I was for that then, and how grateful I am for your continual support now. Thank you, Sam, for being my best friend.”

There was a round of applause, which Dean was completely confused about. He refused to participate and instead crossed his arms over his chest, looking extremely unimpressed.

“Now, Sarah,” Brady started up again, winking at Sam’s fiancé. “Please try not to keep to tight of a leash on my boy, now. I’m _always_ in New York and I still need my drunken pool nights with the coolest mathlete I ever knew.”

Behind him, Dean heard Sam laughing and clapping. He was having a very hard time resisting swinging his elbow back into Sam’s stomach.

“Have a lovely night everyone -- Sarah’s father, and one of my favourite business associates, has worked very hard to put all this together, so enjoy the wine, the good food, and the even better company. Let us join once more in a toast -- that last one, I promise -- for the greatest people we will ever know, Sam and Sarah.”

Dean downed the rest of his drink and hopped so fast on stage he was unsure which action came first. He snatched the mic from Brady with as shit eating of a grin as he could muster.

“Thank you, Brady. That was a _hell_ of a speech.” Dean winked at Brady, whose smile faltered for a brief moment before he shifted sideways out of the limelight. Dean turned to Sam and fixed him with as intense of a gaze as he could muster. “Sammy boy, my Sammy boy. You’re so…special. To me and, uh, to the world, though they won’t even fully know it.”

Sam’s smile twisted for a second, as though he was confused and unsure where Dean was going with this. The rest of the crowd wore a similar polite smile, making it painfully obvious that most of them had no idea what Dean was talking about.

“I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you. You saved my life hundreds of times.” He paused, noticing the increasingly confused looks on the faces in the crowd. “Uh, figuratively, of course. You’ve been there for the best and the worst. All my greatest memories are with you, so thanks for that. Uh, and I feel like I need to thank you for staying Sammy, even when the world was against you. You stayed true to yourself, despite everything, even me sometimes.” He paused, feeling himself getting slightly emotional. “So much for no click flick moments, right?“

He laughed, then after a long pause, he looked up from the ground that he hadn’t realized he’d been staring at, and said softly. “Mom and Dad would be so proud of you, Sammy. They would’ve loved to be here.”

Sam wasn’t smiling anymore, but his eyes were coated in tears. Dean looked at Sarah and found himself smiling. “Sarah, our mom would’ve loved you. You’re more than any parent could wish for their child. You’re the best. Thank you for choosing Sammy. Please take care of him. He‘d leave the house with one shoe on if there was no one there to help him out most of the time.”

The crowd laughed, Sarah blew a kiss to Dean, and Sam looked like he was on the verge of an ugly cry. Dean took that as his cue to leave.

“Thanks everyone, and thanks Mr. Blake. This party is awesome. Toast to Daniel Blake, everyone.”

Ah hah! Stupid Brady and his schmoozing. Dean could do that too. He jumped off stage and caught Sam and Sarah tangled in an embrace he didn’t want to interfere with. He walked proudly over to Cas, who was smiling and shaking his head at the same time.

“I know what you’re doing.” Castiel said when Dean settled at his side, his arms crossed and looking smug.

“I don’t know what you’re ta--”

“That just reminds me of Jess.” Brady’s voice rang out in the crowd. Dean felt the flush around his neck reach up to his hairline and his hands balled in fists. Oh hell fucking no.

The crowd turned towards Brady, who’d settled beside the platform and was looking at Sam with sparkling eyes.

“Jess… Like you, she was one of the first people to be kind to me at Stanford. She was beautiful and kind and had a heart bigger than anyone’s I’ve ever known.”

What? Where the hell was he going with this? Dean berated himself for not standing up with Sam. He could only see the back of his head but he was certain that Sam would be pissed. He had to be. Dean’s hands were curled into fists. He vaguely registered Castiel grabbing onto the back of his shirt to hold him back.

“Jess would love Sarah. Jess would’ve wanted this for you. Where ever she is, she’s smiling down at you two, I just know it. Sammy, you’ve made her really, really proud. ”

“That’s it. I’m gonna hit him--” Dean rushed forward and was tugged back by his shirt. He spun around and Castiel was shaking his head.

“Dean, don’t do anything irrationally. Your brother can take care of himself.”

“No, he can’t.” Dean hissed, yanking his shirt out of Cas’ grip. Castiel sighed and crossed his arms across his chest, looking resigned. Dean didn’t stick around once he’d been released. He weaved through the crowd and made to say something when Brady pulled Sam into a hug. Dean was repulsed and shocked when Sam hugged back.

 

Brady stepped away and announced to the room, “Anyway, enough upsetting the two most beautiful people in the room! Thank you for sitting patiently through the speeches --”

“Hey!” Dean growled.

“-- I encourage everyone to try a glass of the desert wine. It’s delicious --”

“Desert wine is crap.” Dean snapped loudly. Brady pointed through the large door to his left.

“Have a fantastic time!”

\- - -

Desert wine was not crap. Three glasses and Dean was plastered. He stumbled out onto the balcony an hour later and was shocked to learn that it was dark. He leaned against the railing and considered how much it would hurt if he just keeled off the side and fell onto the cement road beneath. He pondered this deeply until a heavy hand rested on his shoulder.

“Dude, what was that?”

“Sammy, that Brady is… is a real top notch sonvab-bitch.”

Sam signed and leaned on the balcony beside Dean. “Look, man, he’s just trying really hard to be nice to me. He feels really responsible for what happened to us. He has--”

“-- every reason to.” Dean interrupted.

Sam pursed his lips and said deliberately, “He has no reason to. He was possessed, Dean. We’re not talking about this again. Look, point is is that he is just trying really hard to make this whole wedding thing as smooth as possible and as meaningful as he can.”

“It’s marriage, Sam. It don’ get more meaningful than that.”

“Ha ha, hilarious. Dean, can you please try a little harder to get along with him?”

“No.”

“Dean, you need to share the limelight with him a bit. He’s a big part of my life now, too.”

Dean felt the swell of anger in his chest, but he said nothing. Beside him, Sam was quiet.

After a silent moment, Sam nudged Dean. When Dean didn’t respond, he nudged him again.

“Hey, come on.”

“ _’Sammy boy‘_? Really? Really, Sam?

“I know,” Sam admitted guiltily, “but he used to call me that in school and I didn’t have to heart to dissuade him.”

“You and your stupid heart.” Dean slurred, resting his chin on his crossed hands. “I hate your stupid heart.”

“It’s big, you know.” Sam offered.

“Yeah, well… it was either your dick or your heart. Couldn’t be both.”

Sam laughed. “So you’ll try a little harder to get along with Brady?”

Dean finally looked at his younger brother. He looked disgusted. “What? No. I mean, what do we even have in common? Sure, we both have dicks, but even then I’m not so sure.”

Sam pointed at Dean. “You don’t know that.”

“I know! I’m c-c’vinced he has a big fat vag--”

“Dean, you don’t know if you have anything in common because you’ve never talked to him. Dean, please do me a favour and just hang out with him. Please? Just once. Just go out to a bar and talk to him. You’ll be surprised. You might have more in common with him than you think.”

Dean surveyed his brother. Or brothers. There were two of them swimming around each other. He focused on one and hissed, “He has two hours w’ me an’ if he doesn’t pass I’m going to kick him in his big fat vag--”

Sam pulled him into a hug. Dean figured it was because he wanted to shut him up more than it was to just enjoy the moment, but either way it was pretty damn nice.


	4. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> S6 AU (And sort of S5 AU after 5.10 - Ellen dies but Jo lives and Brady doesn't die in 5.20). Set two years after the apocalypse that never happened. When Sam is due to get married and appoints Dean as his best man, chaos ensues. Especially since Sam's rekindled friendship with Brady has been getting in between the Winchesters' brotherly bond. Dean struggles with his life as it doesn't go according to plan, Bobby is in sober and actually happy, Jo has a boyfriend that is much too attractive, and Cas deals with being human a tad poorly. Oh, and why does everyone think Cas and Dean are boyfriends?

A couple weeks after Sam and Sarah’s engagement party, Dean was finally fulfilling his promise to Sam. After much avoidance and several ignored phone calls, he and Brady were finally hanging out.

Dean spent half of the morning grumbling and grunting, drinking a lot of coffee and watching bad Sunday morning television with a scowl on his face. When it was almost time for him to leave, Dean peered over the back of the couch and at the door to Castiel’s room.

“Cas!” He yelled. There was the dull sound of a thump and a couple of slow foot stops before Castiel opened the door. His hair was sticking up at odd ends and his blue eyes squinted at Dean sleepily.

“What?”

“Morning, princess.”

Castiel disappeared back into the room again, but before Dean could call him one more time, he reappeared, with his blankets draped around his shoulders and his feet dragging across the living room. Castiel flopped down onto the couch and pulled up his feet, hiding them under the blanket.

“What?” He asked again, blinking slowly at his roommate.

Dean frowned and looked at the clock. “Dude, it’s noon. You never sleep in.”

Castiel yawned into the blanket. “I was up much later last night than I had intended.”

Dean shifted in his seat. “Oh yeah? Doing what?”

“I couldn’t sleep, so I watched TV.”

Dean finally smiled and winked at Castiel, who tilted his head at him sleepily. “’Watched TV’. Dude, just welcome the porn, Cas. Just open your arms to it. Don’t fight it.”

Castiel said with a tone of embarrassment. “I wasn’t watching pornography. X-Men was on.”

Dean paused for a moment while Cas’ flush turned a deeper shade of red. Then Dean laughed and raised a hand in the air in high five. “Dude, awesome. The first movie?”

Cas glanced at Dean’s hand, then nodded and returned the high five slowly.

“How many times have you watched that movie, man?”

Cas shrugged and yawned again. “Several times.”

“Cas, it wasn’t that good. You need to branch out. Try Batman. He‘s awesome.”

Castiel frowned. “I have no interest in Batman.”

Dean narrowed his eyes and in a deep, scratchy voice he imitated, “ _’I have no interest in Batman.’_ Shut up. Batman is awesome.”

“He’s only a human.” Castiel replied simply.

Dean blinked and almost choked on air. “He’s… He’s ‘only a human‘? Hell yeah, he’s only a human! He’s the best one because he doesn’t need powers to be kick ass and save people.”

Castiel sat up straighter now, peering at Dean with a curious look on his face. Dean continued without noticing.

“He fights in line with Superman and can hold up his own. He’s a self-made superhero. Bruce Wayne uses what he has and who he knows to create Batman and fight crime in his city, to protect everyone that he has the ability to protect. Sure, he loses some times, but at least it’s not because his powers failed him. It was because he’s human. Batman is important because Batman always gets up, he always keeps fighting. Batman is awesome.”

Castiel was staring at Dean intently when the rant came to a close. Dean suddenly felt uncomfortable.

Then Cas asked slowly, “Can we watch Batman?”

Dean grinned. “Hell yeah. We can have a movie marathon after you come with me to meet with Brady.”

Castiel frowned immediately, not letting himself be tricked. “I didn’t agree to meet with Brady.”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t come with me.” Dean bounced back. “Come on, Cas. I can’t hang out with that prick alone.”

“You can, Dean. You might even have a good day with him. I wouldn’t worry if I were you.”

“Funny coming from the most anti-social being I’ve ever met.”

“That isn’t true,” Castiel said, frowning. “Chuck was rather anti-social.”

He had a point. Dean shrugged. “All right, so you’re more social than a drunk and twitchy writer. My main point is that you should get out more. That can start today with spending some quality time with Sam‘s snot-nosed side kick.”

Cas pulled the blanket off his shoulders and tossed it over the back of the couch, getting up and disappearing into the kitchen. Dean heard the sound of the fridge opening and closing. He sighed, relaxing into the couch into a defeated slouch.

“Come on. Help a friend in need.” He said loudly so that Cas could hear him.

From the kitchen, his ex-angelic guardian replied, “No. You are not in need. You are fully capable. Besides, I have a shift I must go in for today.”

“Call in sick.”

“That would be a lie. I’m not sick.”

“We could start drinking.” Dean suggested. “If we chug fast enough we could get both get alcohol poisoning. Then I could skip out on Brady and you’d be too sick to go to work. If that‘s not a solid solution to both of our problems, then I dunno what is.”

Cas emerged from the kitchen with a bowl of cereal in his hands. “I have a better idea.”

Dean perked up. “Oh yeah?”

“Yes,” Cas replied seriously, though it was hard to take him seriously when he was bare foot, in pyjamas, his hair sticking in seventeen different directions, and a spoonful of Lucky Charms held a couple inches from his face. “My suggestion is that you stop complaining, go meet Brady, and I remain here, so that I can enjoy the rest of my time off until I must go to work.“ He paused, looking down at his spoon. “Oh. There are no more Lucky Charms, by the way. I‘m about to eat the last of them. You should buy more on your way home.”

And with that, he disappeared into his room.

Dean threw a pillow at the door and grumbled, “You’re stupid. Buy your own Lucky Charms.”

\- - -

He should’ve known that getting together at a bar with Brady couldn’t have been just meeting at a bar with Brady. When Dean walked into the bar Brady had suggested, he quite nearly groaned. Amidst the dark, shiny hardwood floors and expensive looking mood lighting, he felt extremely under dressed in his usual garb. Sure, it looked like every other bar, except this place didn’t smell like booze and sweat, nor was there a single jukebox in sight. Less truck-stop-esque and more business-man-on-lunch-break-ish. He nearly cried with relief when he spotted a row of pool tables near the back.

“Dean!”

Dean turned around to follow the voice and spotted Brady seated at the bar, drinking something clear and in a short glass. As Dean approached him, he noticed a tall, full pint of beer ready for him. He pointed at it and raised his eyebrows, sitting beside Brady without uttering a word.

Brady smiled and nodded. “That’s yours. I hope you don’t mind. I just thought you might like to try something other than Budwiser.”

Dean tried very hard not to let his lip curl distastefully. There was nothing wrong with his usual, but Dean nodded and murmured, “Sure. What is it?”

“I’d try to pronounce it, but I’d embarrass myself. It’s a German wheat beer. Just try it.”

Dean nodded and raised the glass to his lips. A German wheat beer with a difficult name, so basically what that meant was _expensive_. After a slow sip, Dean took a couple large gulps. Oh god… it was really good.

“It’s all right.” He said, sounding bored and shrugging. He turned to look at Brady, forcing a smile on his face, though it looked more like a painful grimace than friendly. “Thanks for inviting me out.”

Brady nodded, sipping lightly from his own drink. He set it down and smiled, charmingly. Dean wanted to smack it right off his face. “It’s my pleasure, Dean. It took a couple tries, but we managed it finally, I’m glad to say.”

Dean smiled a bit easier then. “Yeah, I’m not so great with returning calls.” _Prick._

“I can tell.” Brady replied with a light laugh. “But I’m glad we got to do this. Sam seemed very adamant about it. I can tell it means a lot to him, to have his best friend and his brother get along.”

Dean’s lip almost curled again. He fixed Brady with a cool smile instead. “Yeah. Sammy‘s all about family.”

“Absolutely. It’s a shame Sam couldn’t join us today. I’m sure he’d love to be here. He‘s just so busy, you know? I don‘t know how he does it. Work, school, a wedding..”

“Sammy’s a genius.” Dean said proudly. “He can do whatever he puts his mind to.”

“Of course,” Brady replied, smiling and swirling the clear liquid in his cup. Dean felt the urge to slap it out of his hand. “Sam’s always been an over achiever, even back in school. I mean, it’s why he’s so successful. Even though he’s only at an intern level in the company right now, prospective firms all had their eye on him. I’m glad I got to snatch him up and send him to New York--” A muscle twitched in Dean’s face but Brady didn’t notice. He continued, “-- he’s gonna be great there. I can tell that he’s gong to be a great lawyer. He‘ll move up quickly.”

“If you have anything to do with it.” Dean added, icily. When Brady glanced at him, his brow furrowing slightly, Dean flashed him a grin.

Brady recovered quickly and nodded at Dean, raising his glass slightly. “Well, yes. If I can help Sam in any way, I’m going to. I owe him.”

“Yes, you do.” Dean interjected quickly, adding, “Not that he needs the help. Sammy never really accepts help if he can do it himself.”

Brady chuckled and said conversationally, “Funny how people change then, huh?”

It felt like a slap in the face. Dean narrowed his eyes, “Yeah. Hilarious. Though I don‘t think Sam has changed so much.”

“He’s pretty different.”

“He’s pretty much the same, though.”

Brady pretended to look thoughtful, then shrugged. “He’s different than how I remember him, that’s for sure.”

Dean gritted his teeth and snapped loudly, “Well, shit happens!” When the bartender’s head snapped up, Dean flushed. Brady shot him an apologetic look and turned back to Dean, who continued one volume level down. “He’s pretty much the same Sammy though. Always will be. ”

“Though perhaps a bit taller.” Brady laughed.

Dean wanted to say something to counter Brady, but he fought down the urge to be a shit-disturber and drank deeply from the pint in his hand. This isn’t over, he thought bitterly.

It was over. Brady emptied his glass and gestured to the bartender, who replaced his drink in seconds.

“So what do you think of this place?” He gestured around the room and fixed Dean with a strange smile. Dean felt scrutinized and small suddenly.

“Uh, well…” He struggled for words. He wanted to say something degrading, but instead all that came out was, “… the ceilings are tall.”

Brady glanced up and he nodded slowly. “Yeah. Yeah. They are. I actually know the owner. He used to go to Harvard with my father back in the 50’s. This bar is actually one of twelve in the world. He has a couple locations across the States, the largest in Vegas, and a couple in Europe. There’s one in New York and L.A. My favourite has to be hands down the one in Amsterdam, though. It’s gorgeous. The floors and walls are all black marble. And I believe their ceilings are also high, which you’d love.” He added, winking cheekily.

Dean felt an overwhelming urge to kick out a leg from Brady’s bar stool.

‘Sam’s always wanted to go to Amsterdam.” Dean said, wanting to have something productive to say. “Ever since we were kids, he’s said he’d want to visit Europe.”

“Oh really?” Brady asked, curious.

Dean almost punched the air, so happy that he was mentioning something about Sam that Brady didn’t know about. “Yeah.” He replied excitedly, “For some crazy reason, he wants to backpack across. Knowing him, he‘d spend the whole time inside, looking at art and statues of naked dudes.”

Brady bought Dean another pint. They argued for a minute about who was going to pay for it. Dean was stubborn and didn’t want to owe Brady anything, but at the same time, he was broke, the drink was expensive, and he partially wanted to have Brady pay for it because he was the one who dragged him to Doucheville Bar and Grill. In the end, Dean let him pay for the drink and the three that followed.

So Dean blamed the drinking when he lost every game of pool to Brady. If he wasn’t already pissed that Brady was richer, more attractive, better dressed, and was stealing the affections of his brother, he was furious that he was being ass whooped in pool by a preppy ex-demon.

“You’re cheating.” Dean accused, two hours later. He may or may not have slurred.

Brady grinned at him from across the table, bouncing his pool cue in his hand. “No, Dean. I’m just good at this.”

“No. You’re cheating. I never lose.”

Brady shrugged and shot the cue, sinking two balls gracefully. “I was taught by the best.”

“Oh yeah?” Dean snapped. He was definitely keeping his cool. Definitely. A layer of not-sweat glistened on his brow.

Brady nodded, finally gesturing for Dean’s turn after he just narrowly missed sinking in a third ball. “Yeah. Sammy’s a great teacher.”

Dean’s cue slipped over the top of the ball and he let out a string of curse words that startled a couple sitting at the bar. “Sam taught you to play pool?”

“He did. We started coming here every night after work and eventually, he taught me not to completely suck at this. I‘m telling you, the first month or so I couldn‘t even hold the cue properly, forget sink a ball in.”

Dean felt himself get so overheated at the thought of Sammy coming out to the bar every night to shoot pool with Brady that he didn’t sink another ball in for the rest of the game. His defeat came quickly and painfully, as did the three that followed.

\- - -

“Dean, you didn’t have to do this.” Sam murmured to Dean, nudging him in the arm.

They walked ahead of everyone else across the restaurant parking lot, leading the group of Sam’s groomsmen (and Jo) to their destination.

Dean looked over at Sam and shrugged, smiling at his brother. “Shut up, Sam. I’m your best man. Now let me do best man stuff. That includes taking you guys out for lunch.” He totally hadn’t googled groomsmen activities. “You deserve it. Besides, you have to have a couple nights of fun before you’re married and bored to death for the rest of your life.”

“Is Mexican food considered a ton of fun?” Jo asked, walking up beside Sam and elbowing him in the ribs. Sam grinned and Dean glared at her.

“ _It’s mucho fun_ , Joanna.” Dean said.

“ _Si, senor._ ” She replied, saluting him.

From behind them, Brady commented, “I’ve never heard of his place. Is it supposed to be in the middle of no where?”

Dean knew he was directly behind him. He forced himself to continue walking instead of stopping dead in his tracks and letting Brady slam right into his back.

“Yes. Well, when I map quested it, it said it was at 123 Fuck Yo--”

“I trust Dean.” Sam said, sounding perhaps too cheery to be completely unaware of the thick tension in the air. “He always picks the best places to eat.”

Dean and Sam exchanged looks. They both knew perfectly well that Sam hated most of the places Dean picked to eat, but the older brother appreciated being defended nevertheless. Dean smiled in thanks.

They all stopped in front of the restaurant. Adam was heard grumbling something from the back, while Brady cleared his throat said lightly, “Well, that’s rather nice graffiti on the side there. They spelt ‘cocaine’ wrong, though.”

“Let’s get eatin’. I love this place.” Rufus piped up, brushing past Brady and the others, taking the lead. Bobby was having a hard time holding a straight face as he followed and Dean grinned. The rest followed, Brady and Adam being the tail end.

Once settled and orders were taken, Sam clapped Dean on the shoulder, smiling. “Thanks again, man. This is cool.”

Dean sat a bit taller, raising a glass to clink with Sam’s. “No problem, Sammy. Just promise me you won’t spend the next hour eating rabbit food.”

“Because I value my life, I won’t. But just this once.”

Everyone laughed, but Dean didn’t miss the pitying look Brady shot at Sam. Dean didn’t feel so pleased anymore. He glared over his drink at Brady. Cas noticed though and shook his head at Dean, who smiled sheepishly at being caught.

“A toast to Sam and his last couple months of freedom.” Rufus suggested. Dean and the others cheered, clinking glasses together. There was silence as everyone drank and then Rufus added, “Speaking of freedom, you bringing any special lady to the wedding, Dean?”

Bobby and Jo exchanged a look and Dean rolled his eyes. “You’re funny, Rufus. Nah, there will be no leading lady for me. Besides,” he added with a smirk, “a wedding is where you meet chicks to bang, not to bring a chick you’re already banging.”

The others laughed, while Rufus raised a drink again. “I can toast to that.”

When food finally arrived, the group tore into it. As much as everyone had whined about the appearance of the restaurant, they seemed to be enjoying the food just fine. Dean even convinced Sam to eat a little bit of everything, which was a grand feat considering the healthy lifestyle Sam had taken on with a fervour as of late. Dean peered at Brady, who was munching on a salad.

“You know this is a Mexican place, right?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. “I didn’t even know they served rabbit food here. You should asked them if they’ll serve it to you in a cup.”

Sam elbowed Dean in the ribs.

Brady smiled, unfazed. “I have a lot of trouble eating meat. After… you know.”

 _You mean ripping people apart with your bare hands and liking it?_ thought Dean.

Brady was still talking when Dean tuned back in. “--I have a hard time knowing I’m eating something that was living.”

“That is horribly grim, darling.”

Dean jumped, his tortilla missing his mouth and hit him in the chin. Bobby growled when Crowley appeared at the end of the table beside Adam and Brady. The two recoiled and Crowley raised an eyebrow at them, muttering, “Rude.”

The smug looking demon turned his gaze to Sam and Dean, his dark eyes twinkling and his thin lips curled into a smirk. “I imagine my invitation got lost in the mail, then?”

“Something like that,” snapped Dean, wiping meat sauce off his chin.

“What do you want, Crowley?” Castiel growled, looking severely annoyed.

Crowley threw up his hands and fixed Castiel with an exasperated look. “Is that really how you greet an old friend? After our deal and our good times together in the pit? I gave you the grand tour, showed you the master suite. That is incredibly ungrateful, Castiel.”

“You took my grace.”

Crowley flapped his hand dismissively. “I didn’t take it. I proposed a trade for it.”

Dean looked between Cas and Crowley, noting the way Castiel looked like he was trying very hard to hold back something. He got the distinct feeling something was going on that he was unaware of.

“Oh, the reminds me. Check out what I can do.” Crowley grinned and then there was a flickering of the lights that startled everyone in the restaurant. Their table gasped though, watching a large silhouette of wings behind Crowley. Dean’s heart dropped and his eyes searched immediately for Cas.

Castiel’s eyes went wide and he shrunk into himself. He went from pale to palest in the blink of an eye. Dean wanted to reach out to Cas, but Crowley beat him to it. He clapped the shell-shocked former angel on the shoulder.

“Don’t worry, Cassie. I’m taking good care of them. Brush ‘em every night.”

Castiel looked like someone had killed a puppy right in front of him. He swallowed and hissed. “I’m human now.”

“I know that. I can practically see the emotion crawling all over you. But you knew that would happen, too.” Crowley pointed out, not sounding sorry at all. He leaned forward and shrugged, “If it is any consolation, you pull off powerless and weak very well.”

Castiel cast down his eyes to hide the fury in them, but Dean knew he was sending all kinds of hatred the demon’s way. Crowley pulled off oblivious successfully and fixed Sam with a ghost of a smirk and a raised eyebrow.

“Speaking of the deal, how are you, Moose? Getting married, I see. I’m glad Cassie’s efforts haven’t gone to waste. I’ve come to offer congratulations. And a gift, of course.”

“Well, thanks. You shouldn‘t have.” Sam replied dryly. “Really.”

Crowley smirked and turned his palms up to the ceiling, shrugging. “It’s the least I could do for your war efforts. Despite how little I believed in you and your thick brother, you did prevent the apocalypse. I lived, Lucifer is locked up, and I’m the only handsome bugger with the keys in and out. Recommending you my tailor was the least I could do.”

Cas narrowed his eyes suspiciously while the others exchanged confused looks.

“What the hell are you talking about?” asked Bobby gruffly. Crowley’s smirk turned extra devious and he reached forward to tuck a strand of hair behind Bobby’s ear. The old hunter looked like he was about to have an aneurism.

“Darling, I didn’t even see you there.“ Crowley said to him, winking. “You’re looking as dapper as ever. Did you miss me?”

Bobby muttered something that sounded suspiciously like ‘fuck you’ and Crowley laughed. “While I’m sure you’d love that, I wasn’t a fan of moustache burn. It itches.”

The demon turned to Sam. “Seeing as my original tailor was unfortunately dismembered and eaten, I had to find myself a new one. You are lucky that my replacement is absolutely fabulous. He‘s a little old, nearing death. He‘ll probably end up downstairs…”

Jo raised an eyebrow and piped in. “Your tailor is human? Couldn’t you just, I dunno, snap a suit into existence?”

Crowley peered at Jo through hooded lids. “Hell is dry. That is no place for designer suit construction. And I’d ask the angels but they’re all scared of me now. I don‘t know why. I have no interest in Heaven other than their tailors and brandy. It‘s much too _bright_ up there.”

Castiel glared and Dean rolled his eyes. Sam’s lips pursed, signalling an oncoming bitch face. Crowley paused to shudder and then raised a glass of brandy to his lips, sipping lightly. There was a shared exchange of looks, as if everyone at the same time wondered when he’d conjured that for himself, but then Crowley lowered the glass and continued, “Anyway, the old man owes me a favour. I’m sure six hand-made, expertly tailored suits will even the score.”

He pushed back his seat and stood, raising an eyebrow at the lot of them. “Thanks for saving my hide and handing me that lovely piece of southern real estate. Now come with me before I stop being a softie and change my mind.”

\- - -

‘Come with me’ hadn’t exactly been an option. Sooner than a blink of an eye later and they were standing in a large, street side shop. Rufus still had a quesadilla held in his hand.

The ceilings were low but the store was deep, the sides tall with shelves and the floor littered with tables and sharply dressed mannequins. To the side near the front, there was a fitting area and sofas. Crowley plopped down onto one.

Before Sam could argue or Dean propose some demon ass kicking, a small wilted looking old man, not a day younger than eighty-five, walked towards them from a fitting room and proceeded to show Sam a bunch of suits, trembling and eyes darting to Crowley the entire time. Crowley just nodded and smirked at the horror he was obviously inflicting on the old man. Dean had a sneaking suspicion he had threatened the prospect of a horrible death over the man’s head.

Sam disappeared into a fitting room for a bit with a younger assistant tailor, while Dean and the others stood outside, turning in a series of three way mirrors while two other younger tailors pinned and adjusted their clothes.

Rufus was striking ridiculous poses in the mirror, while Bobby looked grumpily at him and Jo judged all of them, laughing way too often for it to be a good sign. Meanwhile, Cas stood beside Dean, looking hopelessly at himself.

“My sleeves look long.” He murmured flatly, staring at himself in the mirror whist lifting and lowering his shoulders as if that helped him in any way.

Dean rolled his eyes. An assistant was lowered at Cas’ side, pinning and adjusting. Cas looked down at him hopelessly.

“I have no idea what is happening right now.” He offered with the same flat tone in his voice. Dean looked over at Cas and frowned.

“Dude, we’re buying clothes.”

“I know that.” Castiel snapped, his eyes flicking angrily at Dean in the mirror. “But they keep asking me if it’s too tight or too loose. Is the purpose not for it to fit? Why would I want it tight?”

Dean grinned despite himself, looking at his own reflection in the mirror and turning to his side, looking at the suit from all angles. He then looked at Cas, feeling a rush of affection at how ruffled his friend looked. “They have different fits, Cas.”

“That strikes me as completely unnecessary. Each one of the suits in this shop looks the exact same. Can I not just wear the suit I have in my closet?” Cas whispered, his eyes darting from the assistant to Dean, as if he was afraid of offending the worker.

“Dude, that thing was hideous. Not to mention I’m pretty sure the hem of the suit jacket hit the back of your knees.”

“That was a trench coat, Dean.”

Dean rubbed his eyes and groaned. “You missed the joke entirely.”

Cas blinked at him. Dean sighed and began to say, “I was just saying that the clothes were big. It wasn’t talking about the trenchco--”

The tailor working on Cas’ pants moved up behind him and began fiddling with the suit jacket, tugging and pinning.

“Bring it in a bit more.” Crowley ordered from the couch, a suspiciously amused smirk dancing on his lips.

Dean looked back in the mirror and watched the tailor work, his stomach doing a little flip when Cas caught his eye.

“It still looks the exact same.” Cas said, wincing at Dean. A rush of affection for the new human made Dean rest a hand on his shoulder. Crowley was forgotten when Dean met Castiel’s eyes in the mirror.

Dean moved up beside Cas and picked a piece of lint off his shoulder, smoothing down the fabric and letting his hand linger. He paused, then began adjusting his collar. Dean raised his gaze and found Castiel staring at him intensely. Quietly, Dean said “You look really good, Cas.”

And cue the long stare. Dean tried to look away, but something changed in Castiel’s eyes as he met the gaze. The uneasiness drained and Cas visibly relaxed, though Dean felt himself get really hot suddenly and his stomach turned. Cas’ lip curled in the corner, very close to smiling, when Sam’s voice interrupted them and their staring contest ended.

“Something’s wrong with Adam.” Sam said, sounding panicked. Dean didn’t know when Sam had appeared out of that room, but he was across the room now, a hand on Adam’s shoulder as the youngest Winchester swayed.

“He’s turning green, Sam.” Brady said very helpfully, looking between Sam and Adam. Sam was trying to catch Adam’s eye, but the shorter brother was looking down, blinking rapidly and making a face. There was a long silence when everyone in the room held their breath in anticipation.

Then Adam gasped, “Move. I’m gonna hurl.”

Sam out of the way and sprinted past him, pushing into a bathroom on the other side of the store. Sam looked back at Dean with wide eyes, looking pale and worried. Dean’s heart sank.

Sam opened his mouth to say something when everyone heard Adam’s stomach-turning gags loud and clear. Sam’s mouth shut so quickly his teeth clicking together was heard by everyone around the room. A moment later, a horrible churning sound came from somewhere near Rufus’ stomach area. Everyone turned to look at him and saw the man looking pale.

“Aw, man. I dunno… I can’t hear other people pukin’. So nasty, I--” He cut himself off with a gag. Bobby, who was standing beside him, recoiled and turned to look at Dean with wide eyes. Jo stood from her chair, gulping loudly and wiping her forehead.

“I’m gonna check on Adam.”

She disappeared into the bathroom behind Adam, completely disregarding the men’s bathroom sign on the door. It didn’t matter, because no one else was particularly paying attention. Dean looked at Sam, noticing a shiny sheen of sweat on his forehead. Behind him, Bobby leaned heavily on the arm of a sofa, swallowing deeply. He looked down at Crowley, who looked positively gleeful.

“What did you do now, Crowley?” He growled. Crowley pretended to look offended.

“Bobby, sweetie, how could you accuse me of doing anything? Maybe place the blame on _Senor Meathead_ for giving you all food poisoning.” He was gesturing at Dean, who was half way to making a rude retort when his stomach churned and he snapped his mouth shut.

Sam and Dean shared a look that clearly showed that they agreed with him. Though Dean straightened up and shrugged. “I dunno what you’re talking about.”

Bobby picked a perfect time to rush across the room and disappear into the door Jo had vanished into. Crowley chuckled, but when Dean turned his head to shoot him a death glare and aim a couple choice words at him, the demon was gone. All that sounded in the room was the sound of vomiting and muffled angry words behind the bathroom door.

“This is bad.” Sam whispered, his voice trembling. He slid his hand across his forehead to wipe away sweat. Dean watched him sway and his adam’s apple bobbing. _No. No, no, no, no. Not Sam._

“They’re just squeamish, that’s all.” Dean offered, ignoring the sick, creeping feeling settling inside of him and making him feel boiling hot. He choked out helpfully, “Can’t handle a bit of puke.”

“Stop talking about puke.” Sam wheezed. He held out a hand to support himself and Brady rushed forward, placing a hand on his back, shooting Dean a strange look that looked a bit too smug to look sympathetic, as it should have been.

From the bathroom, Jo made a disgusted noise and there was a horrible, wet sound.

_“Oh my god, Rufus. Not the sink!”_

_“Don’t judge me, woman! Don‘t you judge me!”_

Dean swallowed and tried to grin. “If it’s any consolation, I don’t think they’re puking anymore.”

“Oh my god, shut up.” Sam groaned, beginning to push Brady away. Before Dean could even say anything else and before anyone could register what was happening, Sam had puked all down the front of his shirt. He gasped horribly and ran for it, disappearing into the fitting room he’d first been in.

“No! Not that room! Not that suit…” The old man, who no one had noticed had even been present, said weakly. The two assistants were also standing at the back wall, shaking their heads and looking miserable. Dean had a sneaking suspicion they’d be the ones cleaning this up after. One of them sighed and pushed off the wall, dragging his feet into a door labeled ‘Staff Room’. When the second followed, Dean figured the poor old man would be down two employees tomorrow morning. Dean recognized their trudge as the ‘fuck my life’ trudge that he himself had perfected at work.

Dean turned to Brady, daring him to say a word. Of course, he had to.

“I think everyone’s got food poisoning from that restaurant.” Brady said, not even pretending to be concerned now that Sam was gone. There was a ghost of a triumphant smile on his face. “I told you we should have gone somewhere else.”

Dean shook his head and snapped defiantly, “No, it’s not food poisoning.”

Brady pretended to look thoughtful for a moment before he shrugged and said, “I think it is.”

“It’s the flu.” Dean wheezed, swallowing and wiping sweat off his top brow.

Brady raised an eyebrow. “So you all got the flu at the same time?”

“Yes.” Dean said through his teeth, deciding if when he were to throw up whether it would be down Brady’s chest or on his shoes.

“Really?” asked Brady, “Because _I_ seem to be the only person who’s all right. And we both know I didn’t touch most of that food.”

Dean smirked. “Oh yeah? Well, Cas is fine. How do you explain that?”

He turned around to point at Cas, and almost groaned out loud when Cas stared back at him through wide, wet eyes. He looked worse than Adam had, and was obviously trying very hard not to be doubled over.

“You’re all right, Cas. Right?” Dean asked, his tone leaving no room for disagreement. Castiel looked between Brady’s calm, smug face and Dean’s pale, wild looking one. He tried to stand straighter and nodded.

“Dean is right. I feel fine.”

Dean turned back to Brady, grinning. Good ol’ reliable Cas.

But Brady wasn’t looking at him. He still had his eyes fixed on Castiel, a predatory look in them.

“Are you sure, Castiel? I mean, you’re not an angel anymore. No more immunity.” At that, Dean’s face fell and he would have knocked Brady out for pulling out the human card, but he feared any quick movement would have him heaving his delicious tortillas. Brady was fixing Castiel with a look of fake concern. “You look a bit green… and you’re sweating. It’s all right to admit that you don’t feel well, Castiel.”

Dean’s lip was beginning to curl angrily. Why was he being such a prick to Cas?

“He’s fine.” Dean snapped. Behind him, he heard a thump that was no doubt Castiel leaning against the wall heavily. “Stand up, Cas.”

Brady made a sympathetic noise. “Really, Castiel. I think you’d just feel better if you threw up.”

Castiel was angry, Dean realized, when he heard him snap, “I’m fine! I don‘t need to… to throw up. It‘s just food. I‘m not weak enough to be brought down by… food.”

“See? He thinks it’s food poisoning, too.” Brady said to Dean, finally looking at him. Okay, maybe punching this prick in the face was worth puking all over his shoes and proving himself wrong.

Dean ground his teeth together and fought against nausea for a moment, before he hissed, “He’s fine. Used to be an angel, remember? Not that you could forget. Does that still strike fear in your heart or --”

Castiel picked an amazing time to release his stomach contents violently into small garbage bin.

Brady smiled. “Yeah, I’m pretty terrified of him.”

\- - -

The passenger window squeaked as Sam’s sweat slicked forehead slipped against it. He shuddered and readjusted himself in the seat, blinking slowly and staring out the car window miserably. In the back seat, Cas was laying down, his head buried in Dean’s folded jacket and over his torso was a blanket from the trunk. He sniffed miserably and pulled the blanket over his head, disappearing beneath it in a mope-y, human mess.

Dean looked over at his brother worriedly, and then back at the covered lump that was Cas. He looked back at Sam and cleared his throat, which only made him gag a bit. He shook it off and shuddered, swallowing a few time before he asked Sam in a fake cheery voice; “How are you feeling, Sammy?”

Sam was quiet for a very long couple of seconds before he murmured in what sounded like shock, “I puked all down the front of the suit I’m supposed to wear on my wedding day… I puked all over it. I have puke in my hair.”

Urgh. Dean turned his head away for a moment and forced down vomit. If someone said ‘puke’ one more time, he was going to lose his delicious lunch all over the Impala’s interior. He looked back at the road in front of him and said, “It’s not that bad. It’s not that bad, Sam. That stuff can be dry cleaned.”

“I crapped my pants, Dean.” Sam snapped.

Dean fell into silence and restrained himself from driving into oncoming traffic. From the back seat, Cas gagged horribly, making a terrible wet choking sound.

That was it. Dean veered over to the side of the road and came to a full, abrupt stop.

“Get out, get out. Not in the Impala.”

As Dean struggled to undo his seatbelt in a panic, Sam finally raised his head and asked, “Dean?”

Dean finally got his seatbelt undone, but then frantically pushed it off his person, sputtering, “I’m-I’m.. It’s for Cas. I’m pulling over for Cas. Gimme a second.”

Sam sat in silence inside the Impala while Dean emptied all the Mexican out of his body, out onto the freeway pavement, and Cas curled into a ball under the sheets, groaning.

After what sounded like forever, Dean slipped back into the car, his clothing damp with sweat and his hair clinging to his face. His face twisted into a horrible grimance that he had meant to be a smile.

“They changed the pavement.”

Sam turned slowly to look at him. “What?”

“The pavement. On the side of the road… it’s different.”

“Oh.”

“Yup.”

“More soil-y. Easier on my tires.”

“That‘s nice.”


	5. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> S6 AU (And sort of S5 AU after 5.10 - Ellen dies but Jo lives and Brady doesn't die in 5.20). Set two years after the apocalypse that never happened. When Sam is due to get married and appoints Dean as his best man, chaos ensues. Especially since Sam's rekindled friendship with Brady has been getting in between the Winchesters' brotherly bond. Dean struggles with his life as it doesn't go according to plan, Bobby is in sober and actually happy, Jo has a boyfriend that is much too attractive, and Cas deals with being human a tad poorly. Oh, and why does everyone think Cas and Dean are boyfriends?

After a night of dancing, necking, and drinking, Dean rolled off of Kate, one of his colleagues at work, and onto his back beside her, sighing with satisfaction and running a hand through his hair. In his post-orgasmic state, he didn’t even mind it when she cuddled up to his side and drew small shapes into his stomach with her nail. He hummed lightly and rode the feeling of warmth as it settled inside of him. Sam and Bobby could rag on him all they wanted, he thought, but he was pretty damn content sleeping with his younger co-workers… as long as they were legal. Kate, for instance, was bendy. She also had a good taste in music.

As if on cue, she rolled away and pressed a button on a laptop that was balanced precariously on the edge of her bed side table. Jefferson Starship came out of the speakers and Dean almost groaned. Alright, _sometimes_ she had good taste in music. He was too much in a state of mush however to fight it. Instead, he watched her sit up and pull his AC/DC shirt over her head. She winked at him cheekily and settled back down at his side.

“So I heard you telling Josie at work that your brother is getting married.”

Dear God. Could he not just escape this wedding business for one night? Did he even have to discuss Sam abandoning him - sorry, getting married- even after a good tumble?

Dean turned to look at her and shrugged. “Yeah, he’s getting married. I‘m his best man for the wedding.”

She perked up and rested her head in her hand. “Oh, really? When‘s the wedding?”

Uh oh, he thought. Usually these kinds of things flew right over his head, but Dean actually caught onto this one and struggled to change the subject away from the topic of dates. He knew that glint in her eye. It was the ‘who are you gonna take’ glint. He was tired of people asking him who his date was. Did he really need a date so badly?

Dean cleared his throat and looked up at the ceiling, seeming extremely interested in the dim lamp above their heads. “It’s in the summer, after my brother graduates school.”

“He’s still in school?”

Dean peered at her and frowned at her confusing tone. “Yeah, so what?”

“Isn’t he a bit old to be in school?”

Dean looked offended. He shifted away for a second and then scoffed, “No. He’s not.”

Kate frowned and raised an eyebrow at Dean. “I’m pretty sure he’s too old to be in school. How old is he?”

“Thirty!” Dean said, after a moment of thought. “Yeah, thirty. That’s not too old to be in school. Lots of people are in school in their thirties.”

He crossed his arms over his chest, port-orgasmic fuzzies gone and replaced with a tight tension. Stupid little girl and her stupid … words.

Kate shrugged and lowered herself down onto his chest again, either ignoring the cut eye he was sending her way or she completely missed it and thought the topic was over.

“Whatever,” She said from under his chin, “I just didn’t know he was so old. I definitely thought he was younger. Thirty is really late to be getting married, too.”

Dean wanted to crawl into a hole. Partially because she was making him feel like a grandfather, and partially because he was wondering if she knew how stupid she sounded. Thirty too late to get married? How old was she?

He paused for a minute, waiting for the inevitable question. He tensed up.

“So wait… how old are you, then?”

Dean considered the question for a moment and then tried, “Thirty one?”

There was a long silence before Kate raised her head and said flatly, “You’re not thirty one, are you?”

Dean pretended to sound surprised. “Wait, so you’re not thirty one either?”

Kate fixed him with an unimpressed stare. “You should probably go before my dad gets home.”

“Yup.”

\- - -

Dean spent the entire ride home wondering if she was just young and stupid or if Sam was really too old to get married. Meaning, was _he_ getting too old to not be married either? Thirty four… thirty four… He remembered Jody mentioning something about biological clocks ticking. But was that for chicks or dudes too? Oh, god, he thought, would he lose ‘em if he didn’t use ‘em?

He brought this up to Castiel when he got home, dropping down onto the couch beside the florist and pushing the book in his hands to the floor very kindly.

“Am I old?”

Cas sighed and bent forward to retrieve his book from the floor. He turned to look at Dean, fixing him with annoyed eyes and a pursed mouth.

“Sometimes I feel like living with you is the same as babysitting a small child.”

Dean ignored him and leaned forward, pointing at himself. “Dude, _do I seem old_?”

Castiel paused, then seemed to be forcing himself to take the question seriously. He leaned close to Dean, observing his facial features closely. Then he leaned away and shrugged. “You have lines around your eyes and your freckles seemed to have doubled in number. If you truly care to know, you have about three grey hairs in your left eyebrow. Is that what you wanted to know?”

Dean pressed a hand to his own chest and looked shocked. “Dude… harsh.”

Castiel looked confused. He peered around the room, looking for something to say as if it would be written on the walls of their apartment. He looked back at Dean and shrugged. “Uh… is this where I lie?”

“Yes.”

“Dean, you don’t look a day older than sixteen.”

Dean’s face seemed to sag and he stared at Cas emotionlessly. “Sometimes I wonder if you smacked your head into the pavement when you Fell.”

Castiel looked displeased. He glared at Dean, “You know I didn’t actually fall.”

“Coulda fooled me.” Dean snapped, glaring at his roommate. “Anyway, that wasn’t really my question. A girl I work with --”

“You mean a younger girl you sleep with.”

Dean paused to consider whether or not he was going to bother replying, then continued, “A girl I hump occasionally--” Castiel blushed and Dean continued yet again, feeling a bit cheerier, “-- told me that Sam is marrying late. She said he’s too old.”

“You need to stop caring about your age, Dean. The western measurement of years isn’t even right. If you look at the--”

Dean clapped his hands together and pointed at Cas. “See? That is what you’re supposed to say to me when I’m suffering a mid-life crisis.”

“Dean, you are no where near the middle of your life.”

“You’re getting better at this.”

“You provide me with a lot of practice.”

Dean disappeared into the kitchen for a couple minutes, then returned with two beers and a plates piled with pizza pockets.

“Dinner. Dig in.”

Cas made a face of disgust, but grabbed a pizza pocket and accepted a beer anyway. He nibbled on the end and blew into the hole he’d chewed. Dean watched him until he looked up and blinked awkwardly.

“Why are you eating it like that?” Dean asked, sounding amazed but horrified.

Castiel looked down at his food, then up at Dean, explaining seriously, “It’s very hot.”

“I’m embarrassed just watching you eat that.” As funny and cute as he found it.

Nope, not cute. More like, uh, irritating. Dean nodded to himself. Yes, definitely irritating.

Cas looked peeved and lowered the doughy food, letting it settle on its plate. Cheese oozed out of the hole he’d chewed and all over the other pizza pockets. Dean made a sound of disgust.

“Awesome. Look at that. Molten lava all over my food. Good job, Cas.” He moved Cas’ food off to the side, holding it gingerly as it oozed out more cheese. “What did you do to this thing? You‘re like a freakin’ mouse.”

“I’ll add that to your list of nicknames for me.” Castiel said, sipping on his beer lightly.

Dean scowled at his friend and made to change the subject back to himself when he noticed Castiel’s attire.

“Dude, that’s my shirt.”

Castiel looked down at himself in mild surprise, before he looked up and seemed to blush. “Oh. I’m sorry. The laundry must have mixed up. I didn’t give it much thought. I’m sorry, Dean. Let me give it back.”

And then Cas started to take off his shirt. Dean almost let him do it, but then he grabbed the hem and pulled it back down, but not before his eyes did an involuntary double take of Cas’ stomach. Dean swallowed a strange lump that’d formed in his throat, and waved Castiel’s confused look off.

“Don’t worry about it. It looks better on you anyway. Give it back to me some other time.”

Dean was so flustered by the small moment that he completely forgot to return the subject to his age crisis. The two ate in silence for a while before Dean decided the silence had to be broke and he pointed to the small book Castiel had been working on earlier.

“What’s that? You writing a book about me for the fan club?”

Castiel, in his usual fashion, answered very seriously. “You’re in it.”

They had working and cooking and dressing all down pat but he felt like maybe he should’ve spent a bit more time on Castiel’s conversational skills. Dean winked at Cas. “You writing love stories about me?”

A soft blush crept over Castiel’s cheeks and he took that moment to drink deeply. Dean’s grin faltered for a moment, suddenly unsure about how he’d started such a topic.

Castiel recovered though and answered honestly, using a soft tone. “I write down my prayers every day.”

Oh boy.

Cas didn’t notice the way Dean’s face twisted into a frown. He continued, peering down at his bottle. “I write them down so that one day if… when… _if_ I’m forgiven by the host, I can read them all to Him and my family. I know there’s no point of praying, no one is listening to me. No one _should_ listen to me. I voluntarily turned my back on Heaven. I traded His gift to a demon,” He paused to purse his lips bitterly, though after a moment he looked up at Dean with intensity in his blue eyes, “Not, Dean, that I regret my choice. I will always choose to help you… and your brother. You asked me to help you. I will always help you. I don‘t regret saving Sam for you.”

Dean wanted to reach out, but a bigger part of him wanted to back away. He hated talking about Castiel’s deal. It was too much guilt to handle, even for him. The best he could do was make Castiel’s humanity as good as it could be. Talking about that crossroads deal, knowing that Dean actually begged for it, that he’d actually begged Cas to save Sam. To know that his selfishness had brought Castiel down to their mud-monkey level, to leave him weak and mortal, and so sad sometimes Dean could feel it even with his back turned… it was too much shame for one sitting.

Dean tried to change the subject. “Dude, let’s easy up. This is some heavy stuff for pizza pockets and beer. Let‘s narrow down your answer into less than ten words.”

Castiel’s eyes brightened a bit and his shoulder seemed less curled forward. He nodded and gestured to his notebook. “I write my prayers in it, Dean. Is that all right for pizza pockets and beer?”

They shared a small stare, Castiel trying so hard to look cheerful and Dean trying so hard not to feel horrible. Then Castiel raised his beer in the air and Dean slowly met him half way. They clinked glasses and because he was a beautiful person, Castiel changed the subject again.

“Do not feel pressured to get married just because your younger brother is getting married. The beauty about being human is that none of you are the same.”

Dean visibly relaxed and settled into the couch, “I know, man. I know. Sometimes though I just feel like I’m too old for this. I’m too old to be fooling around with younger chicks and living in a crap apartment with a buddy of mine. Sometimes I feel like Sam was right and I shoulda just reconnected with that Lisa chick, or maybe gone back to check in on Cassie.”

When Dean looked up, after realizing he’d been staring at the couch the whole time, and looked at Cas, he shrugged. Castiel was curled back over again, staring at Dean with a soft expression, his lips slightly parted and his eyebrows turned down almost sadly. The expression was gone in a moment and he looked thoughtful.

Dean waited for feedback, and after getting none, he exhaled heavily and said quietly. “Sam is totally making me feel like I’m going no where. He’s moving on and I’m in a rut. He‘s got a girl and I‘ve got a stupid ugly roommate.” (Castiel frowned, taking a second to catch on.) “He makes me feel like a… like… I don’t know! I just want to hunt. But then he makes me question some times if I even want to do that. He keeps asking me what will happen if I get hurt or killed. There’s so much pressure to be an adult now. I have a bigger family now, more friends, and responsibilities to them. Cas, help me out here. You‘re just staring.”

“Dean, you’re having this conversation with yourself.”

“Dude. Try. Harness some angelic wisdom or something. You have that stupid deep, prophetic voice, now use it.”

Castiel sighed. “You wanted to live. You wanted freedom and family and Sam. You have all this now. I’m inclined to agree with your brother. Why would you put yourself in the path of danger when you have everything you’ve ever fought for? You offend the memory of all of those who fought to save you--” (Dean felt a pang of guilt, knowing Cas was partially referring to himself) “--by hurting yourself for the sake of the hunt.”

Dean and Castiel shared a stare for a moment, and then Dean said slowly, raising a finger to point at Castiel. “I see why you have that voice now. You should consider a career in politics.”

\- - -

“Just because my supervisor is out of town doesn’t mean you can do whatever you like. Get your ass-butt off the counter, please.”

Dean swung his legs back and forth, getting shoe marks all over the glass display at the front counter of the flower shop. He flipped through a magazine and grunted in acknowledgment of Castiel’s words, not making even a slight effort to move off the counter.

“But, Cas, I attract all the ladies.”

“And you repel everyone else. Get off.” This time Cas didn’t wait for an answer and Dean nearly went spread eagle on the floor of the shop when Cas’s firm hand shoved him off the furniture,

“That is rude.” Dean muttered, straightening up and shooting Cas an offended face. Castiel shook his head, ignoring Dean and continued to open boxes. He pulled out a teddy bear from the box and offered it to Dean, ordering him to make a display with them.

An hour later and a ridiculous display later -- that had been dismantled about two times because Dean couldn’t be trusted to not arrange the stuffed animals in compromising positions -- the two were seated behind the counter snacking on a bag of chips.

Suprisingly, Cas was the first to make a move. He held up a bouquet of flowers and looked at Dean with raised brows.

“Exhibit A: Twenty red roses with an enclosed note of apology.”

Dean snorted and said with a mouthful of chips. “Oh please. This one is too easy.” He swallowed, wiped his mouth on his sleeve and said, “This dude totally cheated. And ’Exhibit A’? We really need to wean you off _Law and Order_.”

Cas picked at the flowers, rearranging the bouquet before he returned his gaze to Dean and his shoulders shrugged. “Maybe he’s giving them to his mother.”

Dean laughed, shaking his head. “Dude, no one buys a bouquet of twenty roses for his mom. That poor bastard is in the dog house.”

Cas frowned. “And giving his suspicious girlfriend flowers will make her forgive him?”

“For about a night.” Dean replied, after glancing thoughtfully at the ceiling and pouting in thought. He shrugged at Castiel. “Enough time to get some forgiveness sex before they start fighting again the next day.”

Castiel set the bouquet aside and grabbed the bag from Dean, pulling out a chip and nibbling on the end. Dean snatched the bag back and stuffed a handful into his mouth before he said, “Whoever he is, he’s probably a douche bag. He probably owns some douchey car. Like a camero. Or a mustang.”

Dean paused, then whispered thoughtfully; “Probably a mustang.”

Castiel pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes, looking thoughtful. “This arrangement is very expensive.”

“No shit. What a sucker.” Dean chuckled.

“A wealthy sucker. I’m going to guess a tall, middle-aged white man--”

They had been playing this game for an hour, guessing which orders were for which client as they walked in for pick up. Dean had won the last two, claiming his prize of one of the teddy bears and a dollar from the till. There wasn’t much else to choose from in a flower shop. He missed the days when he won hundreds of bucks hustling pool, though for now this would have to do.

But Dean held up his hand, as if offended at Castiel’s guess. “Whoa. No. This dude is clearly Italian.”

Castiel frowned. “Why Italian? Has an Italian offended you recently?”

Dean frowned, looking unimpressed, as if Castiel were asking a completely thick question. “Have you _watched_ Jersey Shore? Those guys are sticking it in chicks left and right.”

Castiel friend and looked away, though his cheeks turned a bright shade of red. Quietly, he murmured, “Snooki isn’t even Italian.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Snooki is a chick, Cas.”

“Oh. Who is the unfortunate looking one?”

“That’s ‘The Situation’. Sam and I decided he looks like Pop Eye.”

Castiels head started to tilt and he seemed to be considering whether or not he should even bother asking about the reference when the door opened to the shop. As if sent by Fate, a buff man with orange skin and hair like the anime characters stepped over the threshold, peering around the shop through bronze sunglasses.

“Hello.” Castiel greeted lamely. Dean turned away and hid a smile. Two years of adjusting to human social culture didn’t seem to have much affect on him. He looked as stiff as ever and his tone sounded rehearsed. Dean grinned unrestrainedly as he took in the other man’s appearance.

“Hey.” The man grunted, nodding at Castiel, who nodded back, glancing at Dean as if to check he was doing it right. “I ordered roses. They ready?”

Cas nodded and set the bouquet on the counter. He turned to the computer and punched in the prices. Dean liked to call his method the ’hunt and peck’ because he typed with one finger. It was so hilarious it had progressed into borderline adorable.

“Your total is a flat one hundred dollars. Would you like to know how to take care of these flowers?” Castiel asked, leaning forward and staring very seriously at the customer.

The man stared at Cas, chewing his gum slowly. He seemed to be trying to figure out whether or not he was joking. Dean noticed a lot of people had that reaction to Cas. He was a bit too good at being deadpan.

The man glanced at Dean, tilting his head downwards to peer at him over his glasses, then glanced back at Castiel. He settled his gaze on Dean and pointed at Cas.

“Is this guy for real?” He asked, then shook his head and pushed his glasses back up his nose. He waved a hand and sneered, “No. Don’t even tell me. I don’t care. I’m just giving them to my girl so she can get off my fuckin’ back. I need these to shut her up long enough to me to get a sentence in.”

“Perhaps you should just let her talk.” Castiel suggested seriously. Dean tried to nod in agreement and look very serious but his cheeks were cramping from retrained laughter so he mostly just looked constipated. Castiel wasn’t thrown off by the angry flush in the customer’s cheeks. He continued, adding, “And when she talks, perhaps you should listen so you might be able to solve your relationship problems.”

“What the fuck… You--”

Dean handed the flowers to the guy and said, “He’s new. Sorry. It’s a hundred bucks for the flowers.”

“What?” The man sputtered, gesturing violently at Cas. “After that shit!?”

Dean pushed the flowers at the man again, smiling in what he hoped was a charming manner. “Forget him. I’m giving you a ten percent discount. Ninety bucks and we forget about the whole thing.”

“Twenty.”

“Eighty bucks it is.”

The man paid and left the store in a huff. Dean turned to Cas and raised his eyebrows. Cas blinked back at him and then they both slowly smiled, Dean laughing and Cas making a small noise that Dean had learnt was Cas’ attempt at holding back his own laughter.

“You are a real piece of work.” Dean accused, pointing at Cas and picking up the chip bag again.

“I just thought I would give him some advice.” Castiel said plainly, though Dean knew him well enough now that he could see the corner of his lip twitching and know Cas was trying to be sneaky. It had taken him a while, but the former angel was starting to get a grip on his own sense of humour. More often than not, Cas was making Dean laugh or cheering him up. It was something to be thankful for, especially considering Sam’s gradual absence in the past year or so.

“Hey Cas,” Dean said, nudging his flatmate and wiggling his eyebrows, “It’s safe to say that bastard looks like he’s got himself a _situation_ , eh? Right, Cas?”

Cas rubbed at his eyes, shaking his head. In a flawless dean pan delivery, Castiel murmured, “I should have left you in Hell while I still had the chance.”

\- - -

Later on, Castiel had somehow convinced Dean to actually do some work, so before he knew what was going on, Dean had cleaned the counter, rearranged the paperwork behind cash, and was sweeping the floor. The sun had gone down and so a soft, blue light from the refrigerators and the streetlamps outside was cast throughout the shop. Cas had allowed Dean to play some of his CDs over the stereo and the two were quietly humming along to Jimmy Hendricks‘ ‘All Along the Watch Tower’ when there was a thump at the door.

Dean’s head snapped up, his hunter senses kicking in. He reached back and pulled out his gun before he even knew what he was pointing at. Ready to take on a ghost or a werewolf or a freakin’ raccoon, he was severely disappointed when he found himself staring at a bare butt pressed up against the glass door of the flower shop. He heard Cas groan behind him and Dean jammed his gun back into the back of his jeans after turning the safety on. He crossed the store in three strides and yanked open the door. The bare ass fell back into the store and a pimply, scrawny teenager with long hair, a beanie, and braces look up at him. Dean grabbed the kid by the collar and pushed him out into the street.

“Get the fuck away from this door or I will shove my foot right up your pimply little ass, twerp.” Dean barked, pointing a finger right at the kid. The teenager ran away laughing, a group of his friends running after him, holding their sides with laughter. Dean grumbled and closed the door, turning the OPEN sign around and locking the door behind him.

“What a bunch of little fuck heads.” He snapped, returning to the counter after picking up the broom he’d tossed aside in his haste.

Castiel just looked miserably at the door and sighed. “They’re here every night. I was rather alarmed the first couple of times it happened, but now I just let his butt bounce against the door for a bit until the group gets bored and goes away. The only part about this that bothers me is that I have to wipe his butt residue off the glass at the end of the night.”

Dean stared at Cas in horror. “Oh god.”

Cas frowned. “Probably. My punishment for disobeying Heaven is a lifetime of wiping butt sweat off glass with a paper towel. In my humble opinion, it’s a rather harsh penalty.”

Dean groaned and rubbed his face with his hands. “Cas, why do make yourself work here? Between cranky old ladies, cheating husbands, Valentine’s day, and butt sweat, I see nothing worth sticking around for.”

Castiel shrugged, turning towards the bird cage resting on the counter. A canary bounced up and down happily, as if it was pleased to see Castiel. It sang as he opened the latch and hopped onto his finger when he extended his hand. A second canary peered up from under it‘s wing but looked uninterested and went back to sleep. Cas let the yellow one hop around on the counter while he took out the seed and water bowls.

“Aside from the customers, I find it very peaceful here.” He admitted, stroking the sleeping canary on the head softly. It shuddered happily but didn’t lift it’s head. Castiel continued, his voice soft. “It reminds me of heaven, of gardens and flowers and quiet. The birds sing and the flowers smell --” He peered at Dean and referenced with a smile on his face, “-- _pretty_. For the most part no one bothers me. I can make the arrangements without anyone needing to help me. It is reassuring to me that even though I don’t have powers, I can still give life to something beautiful. I can create beauty with just my hands.”

Dean would have put a stop to the chick flick moment a lot earlier had he not been so relaxed. The cool, blue lighting, the smell of flowers, and the soft singing of the birds had him leaning on the counter and listening quietly. There was something peaceful about watching Cas caress the bird and clean out the cage. Even when wiping up seed and bird poop, Cas’s hands were soft, very gentle, and very careful. Like something straight out of a Disney movie, he offered the tiny bird a small handful of seeds and the little creature hopped onto his fingers, completely trusting and completely content.

“I miss Heaven.” Castiel suddenly admitted quietly, his voice so soft and small that Dean almost missed it as he was coming out of his train of thought. Dean looked up from his hand and watched Castiel’s sad, blue eyes as they watched the bird eat. “I miss my home and my family.”

Before he could even register what he was doing, Dean reached across the counter and rested his hand on Castiel’s wrist, giving it a light squeeze. Castiel looked up in surprise and caught Dean’s gaze. His shocked expression softened, and something sad reflected in his eyes as he stared back at Dean.

Dean’s thumb slowly brushed back and forth over Castiel’s wrist subconsciously as he said quietly, but fiercely. “Cas, I never really thanked you for what you for me… I mean, you know… for Sam.”

Castiel shook his head almost imperceptibly and he said, “I did it for you, Dean. I did it all for you.”

Dean swallowed thickly, suddenly unable to get rid of a lump that had settled in his throat. He nodded and looked back up at Cas, trying to finally get out what he’d been meaning to say to Castiel for two years.

“I know I won’t ever be able to do anything or give you anything that will let you know how grateful I am to you. But I… I know I’m a real dick sometimes, but not a day goes by when I don’t think about how lucky I am to have you around. I’ve never had someone do something… sacrifice for me like you did. Other than Sam. Only family has ever treated me so nicely,” He paused, snorting, “Though even sometimes not even that.”

“Dean, I would do it again. I --”

Dean’s hand slipped down and squeezed Castiel’s, looking away and fighting with his words in his mind. Nothing was coming out right. He didn’t sound as thankful as he felt, what the hell?

“Cas, that’s not what I wanted you to say. Don’t… don’t say anything. I just wanted to tell you that I am thankful everyday that you gave up your grace for me. It meant leaving home and leaving everyone you loved behind… I mean, I don’t know why -- angels are dicks.” He paused, then decided to rephrase. So much for being heartfelt. “But just trust me… I’m never going to forget that you dropped everything to help me.”

“Dean, stop.” Castiel said suddenly. Dean looked up from the floor, meeting Cas’ eye. He found himself staring into fierce, shining eyes. His cheeks were flushed as if he were frustrated or riled up, though Dean didn’t detect any anger.

“Dean, it was worth it. I knew what would happen if I gave up my grace.” He seemed to stand a little straighter too as he said, “I served my purpose in the end. I helped the righteous man stop the end of days. I protected you to the best of my ability… I wasn’t going to let you live your life in agony because your brother was in Hell. I risked everything to keep you alive… I wasn’t going to leave you dead on the inside.”

Ugh. Stupid Castiel and his inability to know when he was being too insightful. Or too right.

“My only regret is that I never got to speak to my Father or say a few words to my closer brothers and sisters. I regret that my father will never forgive me…”

Castiel’s fingers wrapped around Dean’s hand, bringing Dean to the realization that they were basically holding hands through this major chick flick moment. He would have taken the time to freak out if he his heart wasn’t already hammering from the guilt. His fingers curled up and intertwined with Cas’.

“It’s not such a bad life that I lead. I get to see you every day.” Cas looked down, swallowing slowly. He took a moment to apparently think something through. He looked up and was beginning to say something, but Dean held up a hand and nodded.

“I get it. Cas, thank you.”

He pulled his hand back and shoved it between his legs, looking away and anywhere but Cas. In his lap, he flexed his fingers, trying to ease the tingle, trying to ignore that the feeling of heat from where his fingers had wrapped around Castiel‘s.


	6. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> S6 AU (And sort of S5 AU after 5.10 - Ellen dies but Jo lives and Brady doesn't die in 5.20). Set two years after the apocalypse that never happened. When Sam is due to get married and appoints Dean as his best man, chaos ensues. Especially since Sam's rekindled friendship with Brady has been getting in between the Winchesters' brotherly bond. Dean struggles with his life as it doesn't go according to plan, Bobby is in sober and actually happy, Jo has a boyfriend that is much too attractive, and Cas deals with being human a tad poorly. Oh, and why does everyone think Cas and Dean are boyfriends?

“What was wrong with a strip club in Sioux City, huh? Normal people have stag parties at strip clubs. This is one of those occasions where I want to be normal!” Dean whispered furiously at Cas, jabbing violently in the air towards the plane seat in front of them. Cas shifted at Dean’s side, checking his seat belt for possibly the twentieth time. Dean continued, lost in his rant. “Oh, but that’s too low key for Brady, right? It just _had_ to be Vegas. It just _had_ to be a stupid weekend at the MGM Grand, huh? I can hardly afford pizza pockets. How am I supposed to pay off my debt after… Cas?”

The former angel didn’t reply to Dean’s whining and instead exhaled shaking, inhaling deeply through his nose.

Dean, not getting any response from his seat mate, glared at Castiel and elbowed him. “Dude, stop ignoring me.”

“Dean, I’m trying to focus.” Castiel whispered rapidly, swallowing thickly, leaning to peer out the airplane window down at the trembling wing, before leaning back and shifting in his seat again, squeezing his eyes tightly.

Dean’s eyebrows furrowed. He frowned at Cas. “What the hell is wrong with you?” He asked.

“Nothing.” Castiel answered a bit too quickly. Dean groaned.

“No. Not you too. You cannot be nervous while I’m nervous. You’re supposed to be here to reassure me that we’re going to be fine and we won’t be hurtling to a fiery death in the next hour. Come on. You used to be an angel. You used to have freakin‘ _wings_. How the hell are you afraid of flying?”

Castiel seemed to break into a sweat almost instantly. His turned towards Dean with a horrified look on his face. “I loved flying. Nothing gave me more peace. But we are hovering hundreds of miles in the air in a man-made metal capsule with wings and _windows_. There is nothing to reassure you about. This is a death trap.”

Dean turned away from Cas and pressed himself further back into the seat, if that was even possible. “Oh God. Oh God. Shut up, Cas.”

“You humans can make toasters and cell phones just fine.” Castiel growled. “I have no problem with waffle makers. Those contraptions are functional and rather genius, if I might say so. I could eat a waffle from a waffle maker. But fly in this death trap? I don’t trust this. I thought I’d be fine, but --”

“Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.”

\- - -

Up in first class, Sam was also shifting in his seat. Though he wasn’t nervous or uneasy from flying. Instead, he was a bit unsettled with guilt. He fiddled and fidgeted. He bit his nails and tapped on the arm rest until Brady nudged him and raised his eyebrows.

Sam’s lips pursed into a thin line, then he admitted guiltily, “I shouldn’t be up here, man. I should be sitting back there with Dean. This is so un-cool.”

Brady shook his head and smiled, giving Sam a reassuring pat on the knee. “Dude, it’s your stag party. Just enjoy yourself a bit. Besides, don’t feel guilty. I offered to pay for Dean and Castiel to be up here with us. They refused. Well, Dean refused for the both of them. Castiel doesn’t say much, does he?”

Sam ignored the last bit and frowned, still looking concerned. “Yeah, but… we never traveled first class. I feel weird up here anyway. I feel out of place.”

Brady rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Sam, let yourself be spoiled just once. Just let yourself belong.”

Sam and Brady exchanged a look where Brady raised his eyebrows in a reassuring gesture and Sam stared wearily at him, still feeling obviously guilty. Brady won though and Sam sighed, relaxing in his seat.

“All right. I still feel bad though. I should just… be with him. He’s my brother.”

Brady sat back as well, looking triumphant. “I know. I feel horrible about it, but he is being stubborn. There’s not much you or I can do about that. Besides, I‘m sure he and Castiel are feeling right at home in coach.”

\- - -

“Remind me why I paid an extra hundred and fifty bucks for a first class?” Adam grumbled to Bobby, unfastening his seat belt with more exaggerated of a gesture than the action really required. He leered around the plane, his dark hooded eyes narrowing further as he took in the extremely dull sights.

“Excuse you.” Bobby growled, “You mean to ask why _I_ paid an extra one hundred and fifty bucks to seat your ungrateful ass in first class.”

“Right. Whatever.”

“It’s because Brady wanted us to all be together. That was the plan. I ain‘t gonna bitch over a couple bills.” Bobby replied, though he sounded like he was two seconds from bitching about ‘a couple bills’.

Adam slouched more, if that was even possible, and crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t know why we didn’t just drive there.”

Bobby groaned, rubbing his eyes with his fingers, before he slapped his hands down on his thighs and he asked, “Would you like some cheese to go with all that whine? How did I get stuck sitting beside you?”

Adam’s lip curled and he glared out the window, murmuring. “Just lucky, I guess.”

Bobby grabbed him by the shoulder and turned him enough to shock the young man into looking at him.

“Your life is so _horrible_. _What_ are you so upset about now? Someone piss in your cereal this morning?”

“Actually, someone did--”

“Dean’s a prankster, you should know that by now. But cereal piss aside, what could you possibly be upset about now? First class plane right to Las Vegas with your brothers and friends? Saved from Hell? Not to mention you had shelter and family waiting for you when you returned? You are the most ungrateful, surly little shit I have ever had the… the displeasure to talk to.” Bobby hissed, his moustache quivering and his beady eyes getting more beady as he ranted.

Adam blinked at Bobby and actually looked guilty. He uncrossed his arms and his head bowed slightly as he murmured, “Sorry, Bobby…. Though I think Dean really did piss in my cereal this morning.”

“That’s what you get for leaving food unattended around him. I thought you learned that when living with him and Sam for six freakin’ months after the apocalypse. He’s bored out of his mind and he thinks the showing brotherly love is pranking you until you’re blue in the face and there’s no more skin left on your ass.”

Adam sat back and said quietly, though he sounded a tad begrudged, “It’s just not exactly fun being surrounded by family I don’t feel welcome into. I know Dean and Sam are only involving me in their lives because they feel bad for me, because they feel guilty for getting me killed, because of my mom--”

Bobby released Adam’s shoulder and turned away, shaking his head and crossing his arms over his chest, clearly getting comfortable. “If I knew this was gonna be a pity party, I wouldn’t have shown up.”

Adam sat back in his seat with a huff. “I knew you wouldn’t take this seriously. You always ask me what’s wrong but you never wanna hear why--”

“Look, you brat. Sam and Dean have you here because they want you here. They already feel enough guilt as it is, they don’t need to feel guilty for you, too. They don’t need you tryna make them feel guilty after they’ve fought their fights and did what they needed to do to win. May I remind you that Castiel grabbed you as well as Sam. May I remind you that your self-centered ass is seated in a first class plane ticket to Vegas and not spread open and torn apart on the racks in Hell.”

Adam looked conflicted, then he sighed and sat back, murmuring, “I suppose you make a valid point.”

\- - -

Sam and Brady were in the middle of a riveting conversation about Sam’s BAR exam when Sam felt a tap on his shoulder and Cas looked up at him from his crouched position in the plane aisle. Sam turned to Cas, greeting him in a tone of surprise.

“Hey Cas. What’re you doing up here?” It only took a second for Sam to drink in Castiel’s expression before asking in a more hushed tone, “What’s wrong? Is everything okay back there?”

Castiel looked around, appearing slightly panicked with his wide eyes and bobbing adam’s apple. He nodded and whispered roughly, “Sam, Dean is looking unwell. I’m unsure about what he wants me to do. Whenever I try to speak to him he shakes his head and hums. Does humming typically preceded a mental breakdown or seizure?”

Sam grinned and he patted Castiel on the shoulder. “It’s nothing, Cas. He’ll be all right. Are you okay?”

Cas opened his mouth to reply, but he snapped his mouth shut and jumped a bit when a flight attendant barked at him to return to his seat. Cas nodded and turned back to Sam.

“Admittedly, I’m a bit nervous myself.”

The flight attendant barked at him again from the other side of the cabin and was beginning to make her way over to him slowly. Cas looked even more panicked than before. He nodded and was getting up when Brady reached over Sam and offered four small white pills to Castiel.

“Here,” He offered kindly, “Take these. There are two for you and two for Dean. They‘ll calm you two down a bit.”

“Thank you.” Castiel said sincerely as he took the pills, flashing Brady a small smile and receiving one instantly in return. He stood and nodded at the flight attendant, as if saying a heartfelt apology to her. He began returning to his seat that was past the blue curtain separating the two classes, but before he stepped through, he raised two pills to his mouth and dry swallowed them, grimacing at the chalky taste. He made a hilarious face then shuddered and stepped into coach. Humans were so bizarre.

He didn’t believe much in human medicine for the most part. It claimed to decrease pain but most of the time it didn’t work. Dean had told him holding an ice pack to a burn would ease the sensation but all it had done was rip off his skin when he’d pulled away. It had been shockingly cold, in his defense. How was he supposed to have known that the ice bag went in a towel and not directly on the skin?

Cas sat back down beside Dean, whose humming sounded less calm and had progressed into quick, frantic sounding grunts. Castiel slipped down in the seat, gripping the armrests in a deathly grip, having no faith that two stupid disgusting chalky pills were supposed to ease his irrational human fears and calm his stupid, fragile, hammering human heart.

\- - -

“All right, what about the Navy?”

The tall, stern looking woman in the seat beside Rufus pursed her lips and stared hard at the seat in front of her, unsuccessfully trying to hide her irritation as he questioned her.

“No.” She said through her teeth. “I’m not in the navy. I’m not a police officer, or a mountie, or an FBI agent, or in the air force… or anything else you suggested. Even if I were any of those things, I’m not telling you, so stop guessing.”

Rufus leaned away, holding his hands up in the air. “Well, I _apologize_. You just seem like a woman with some power, that’s all. Damn.”

“If you keep interrogating me, I’m going to show you power.” She growled at the headrest in front of her. Her tone should have hinted to Rufus that she was uninterested, but the man seemed to eat it right up. He leaned in and raised his eyebrows at her.

“… tell me, where do you keep your gun? Is it, y‘know…” He made a cupping motion with his hands at chest level.

The woman turned and raised her thin, arched eyebrows at him, pursing her lips. She seemed too annoyed now to not be invested in the conversation. It was as if she was so amazed with his gall that she couldn’t just ignore him.

Slowly, she asked, “Are you asking me if I keep a gun in my cleavage?”

Rufus winked and nodded, only making her press her hands to her eyes and exhale slowly. “Entertaining the idea that that was even _possible_ , why would I keep it in my cleavage? What if it went off?”

Rufus looked offended. He raised his hands again, scoffing. “Well, excuse me. I dunno what kind of contraptions that US government is makin’ these days? Did you know that during the Cold War they were developing lip stick guns? You just click the bottom and BAM! Hand gun in _seconds_.” Rufus explained conspiratorially, “I see you woman hidin’ all sorts of things in your chest pillows. Them things are safer than hidin’ stuff in your belt. Why not hide them in there? It’s discrete. Efficient. Easy to get to.”

The woman stared at Rufus for a very long time, her eyebrows raised and her face twisted into a look of complete and utter disbelief. After a good half a minute, she turned away and shook her head.

“You are an idiot.”

\- - -

As tough as Bobby’s love was, it was still love. After ten minutes of tension-filled silence between Adam and himself, the older man nudged the younger, his mustache twitching and his small watery eyes darting over to look at the solemn young man staring out the window.

“Look, I’m sorry.” Bobby offered gruffly, looking sheepish through he was trying very hard to appear nonchalant. Adam looked up, too surprised to maintain his grumpy glare. He blinked at Bobby and then asked, “What?”

Bobby shrugged and shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He turned his head slightly in Adam’s direction and he muttered, “You gonna make me say it twice? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to shame you,” He paused, then rephrased, “Well, I did. But I just wanted you to know that we care about you.”

Adam looked away, blushing with embarrassment. He seemed to be trying to remain grumpy, though his green eyes looked a little less dark and he seemed to be having a hard time frowning completely. “Whatever, Bobby.” He tried.

Bobby growled, “Don’t whatever me, boy. I’m trying to apologize here, you idjit. Pay attention. I don’t just do this for anyone.”

Adam sighed and turned to look at Bobby. “Shoot.”

Bobby frowned, narrowed his eyes at the youngest Winchester, then relaxed a bit after staring at his face for a moment. He visibly relaxed and looked over at Adam, looking sheepish and honest. “Dean and Sam are _my_ boys. I pretty much helped raise ‘em. I took ‘em in, I taught ‘em a lot of what they know - not that John was an idjit, ‘cause he wasn’t. He raised them as best as he could. But it was me that gave ‘em a little slice of childhood. I threw a ball with Dean and took Sam to the bookstore in town when I had ‘em for, oh, weekends, sometimes weeks at a time.”

Bobby looked away, then back at Adam, noticing the familiar green eyes a bit softer than usual. Bobby swallowed and continued, sighing heavily. “Just know that they didn’t have it easy. And so help me God if you tell them I told you all this, I will castrate you myself.” He paused to let Adam nod slowly, then carried on. “Look, any of John’s kids is one of my kids. Your brothers are my boys, and just the same, so are you. I’m trying here, okay? So are you brothers, so shape the hell up. We love your surly little ass, so cheer the fuck up and -- a shot of whiskey. Make it double. And a water for me.” Bobby ordered as a flight attended walked by.

When he looked away from the flight attendant and back at Adam, he caught Adam smiling. It was gone in a second, replaced with that stupid frown that annoyed Bobby to the end of the earth and back. But he’d caught the smile even though it’s visit was short. His moustache twitched.

“You’re my boy. You live in my house, drink my beer, eat my food, and drive my cars. If you really hated us, you’d have disappeared long time ago. So quit pretending you want us dead and just accept that, yes, you‘re as fucked up and as crazy as the rest of this family. It makes you one of us.”

When the alcohol arrived, Adam raised his drink first, clinking with Bobby’s, and hiding his smile behind the glass rim of his whiskey.

\---

Back in coach, Dean had also taken the liberty of ordering drinks for himself and his seat mate. Castiel peered down a plastic cup of clear, strong smelling liquid, wrinkling his nose and glancing over questioningly at Dean, though the man was ignoring him.

“… fucking bullshit. Why couldn’t we drive? It’s freakin’ Nevada. It’s not that far of a drive! Oh, okay - so it’s like a _day_ of driving. Sam and I used to drive everywhere!”

“Dean --”

Dean tossed back the tiny tumbler of liquid and trembled, setting it down. He ignored Castiel and continued, “But no. We just had to fly. Sam knows that I _love_ flying. And I’m stuck sitting next to freaky-angel-wimp with the fear of heights and women and social situations. I can’t even get you to distract me with conversations about boobs or something. Oh God. Are we there yet?”

Dean shrunk into his seat while Castiel frowned. He didn’t seem to take insults as well as he had when he was an angel. Stupid emotions. Cas peered down at his drink again.

“What is this?” He asked, shaking the drink in his hand. Dean looked at it and grunted.

“Vodka. Just swallow it.” He paused to snort. “That’s what she said. He said. Whatever.”

Castiel tilted his head. “Who said what?”

Dean looked at him wearily from his slouched position and sighed, “Forget it. Just drink it.”

Castiel did as he was told and made a hilarious face when the liquid went down his throat. He gasped and shook his head, squishing the tiny plastic cup in his hand in his shock.

“ _Uuuhgh_. I remember vodka now. I remember specifically asking you from the bathroom floor not to let me drink it again.”

Dean grinned, possibly for the first time since stepping on the plane, and nodded, “Yeah. I remember that. Jeez. How long ago was that?”

Castiel had recovered from the vodka shot and was glaring at the cup. “About a week after I became human. You told me I was ’freaking out’ over the ’whole human thing’ --” Two years later and Castiel had only kind of grasped the concept of air quotes. “--and that it would relax me. I think I remember not being very 'relaxed'.”

Dean chuckled morbidly. “Yeah, I remember you falling a lot. You kept asking me to take you home in Spanish. Man, I wish you‘d get drunk more often.”

“I told you that one time that I never wanted to get drunk again. It’s a horrible feeling. Things I meant to only think came out of my mouth. And I didn’t enjoy losing control of my movements. I --” Castiel shut his mouth and glared when two more shots were put down in front of him by a flight attendant in passing. When he looked over at Dean, the man was grinning.

“I told her to keep ‘em coming. They relax me, at least. Come on. Ease the nerves. Just drink it.” Dean nudged Cas and swallowed the alcohol. Castiel follow suit after the plane gave a stomach clenching lurch. He rifled around in his pockets and took out the two white pills remaining, handing them to Dean.

“Brady gave me these to give you. I told him you were nervous. He said they’d relax you.” Castiel explained, after Dean had fixed him with a horrified look.

“Oh thank god. I thought you had bought these yourself. You and drugs do not mix, just trust me.” Dean seemed to be visiting a painful memory for a moment, then he looked back at Cas, seeming less melancholy and more irritated, “Look, dude, I’m not taking _anything_ from Brady. That guy is an a--``

Just on time, Brady crouched down beside Castiel and smiled at Dean. He peered down at the pills in Dean’s hand and raised his eyebrows, “I see you received my little gift. I hope they‘ll make you feel a little better. Castiel told me you‘re a nervous flier.”

Dean slowly turned his head to glare at Castiel and his lip began to curl. He shook his head and plastered a sickeningly sweet look on his face. It was almost painful to maintain.

“Thank you _so much_. But I’ll stick to the regular stuff.” He handed the tiny pills back to Brady, who took them with a shake of his head. Dean flagged down the flight attendant who was traveling down the aisle with a cart, and ordered through clenched teeth, “I know I told you to wait twenty minutes between drinks, but can I get my next one now, please?”

She nodded and poured him a drink, holding it out of his reach. Sweetly, she asked, “Did you also wanna settle the tab for now while I have the cash here?”

Brady looked at Dean with surprise, then a smug smile appeared on his face. He pocketed the pills and pulled out his wallet. Before Dean could say anything, he handed her a couple bills, told her to bring more drinks, and then made room for her to move away. Dean noticed the small wink he exchanged with her and the second glance she gave his backside once she’d passed. Ugh. Why did chicks always go for douche bags?

Brady laughed quietly and said as he stowed away his wallet, “I completely forgot you had to pay for drinks back here. In first class, it’s free.”

He was crotch level with Brady. He slowly considered whether or not it was breaking man code to reach over Cas and sack Brady in front of everyone.

“Anyway, I just came back here to see if the pills had kicked in all right. But I see you didn’t take them. Castiel, did--”

Dean interrupted and said through his teeth, “Real thoughtful of you, but we’re anti-drug back here.” He held up his empty shot cup and shook it in the air, “We’ll handle it like real men, thank you.”

Brady glanced down at Cas, while Cas avoided his eyes and became very interested in his shirt sleeve. Bracy raised his eyebrows and nodded.

“All right, then. Drinks are on me for the rest of the flight, okay? Don’t go too crazy. The flight is only a couple hours, Dean. Good luck on the maning up.”

“Sure.” Dean said, forcing himself to smile, though he was pretty sure if he was forced to do it for much longer his face would crack down the center. When Brady left, he turned to Cas and growled, “What a fucking prick. That’s it, Cas. You and I are getting drunk. This situation ain‘t gettin‘ any better.”

\- - -

 

An hour later, his fifth shot in, Castiel was not only drunk, but he was starting to think that he probably shouldn’t have underestimated the power of those tiny, disgusting chalk tablets. One minute he and Dean were chuckling uncontrollably over Castiel’s horrible attempt at a ‘That’s What She Said’ joke, the next he was feeling nauseous and sweaty, and then horribly giddy again. Small cups never seemed so funny before. For whatever reason, when Castiel had said, “What are these? Cups for _ants?!_ ” something had been absolutely hysterical. Dean was curled in towards Castiel and roaring with laughter.

Then more stuff happened, though Castiel’s memory seemed to blur it out. Before he knew what was happening, he was leaning over Sam and Brady, smiling so big his face was hurting. When he tried to stand straight, he swayed. Sam’s head, he thought, seemed mighty sturdy. He tangled his fingers in Sam's hair and sighed.

Sam jumped and looked up at Cas, reaching up and extracting his fingers from his hair. Sam and Brady ceased their conversation and looked up at Castiel.

“Hey Cas!” Sam greeted, recovering from shock with a happy smile on his face. He seemed genuinely pleased to see him. Something in Cas’ chest swelled at the youngest Winchester’s expression.

“Saaam.” Castiel sighed happily, reaching up and holding onto the overhead compartment handle. He hung from it and swayed lightly, resting his head against his arm. “Sam, I am so happy to see you.”

Sam exchanged an amused look with Brady, though his eyebrows raised and he gaped for a minute before he returned brightly, “You too, Cas. How’re you doing? Feeling better?”

“Oh yes. Brady, those pills are _heavenly_. They make me feel very, very happy.”

Sam’s eyes widened in realization and he looked torn between amusement and shock. “Uh, I can see that, Cas. Where… where’s Dean?”

Castiel shrugged and waved his free hand in the air, though it seemed to disturb his balance and he swayed for a moment, stilled only by Sam’s quick hand on his side, helping him regain balance.

“Dean’s sleepin‘. He was droolin’ on my shoulder so I escaped.”

Brady was still smiling, unlike Sam who was shaking his head with disbelief. Brady smiled brightly at Cas and said, “Wow, Castiel. Looks like you’re really enjoying yourself.”

Castiel nodded. “Well, yes. Now I am… Bu’ before I thought we were bound to plunge to a fiery death just West of Nevada.“ He paused thoughtfully. “Might still happen, of course. You humans are completely incapable of doing most things properly.” Castiel paused again to punch Sam on the shoulder. “Except averting the apocalypse. You really nailed that one.”

Sam rubbed his arm and groaned, “You are spending too much time with Dean.” When Castiel stared to sway too much to one side, Sam grabbed Cas and steadied him. “Uh, Cas. You sure you’re all right?”

“When I try to walk forwards it looks like I walk sideways.” Castiel broke down into deep giggles. Sam started to get up and grabbed Cas by the wrist, shaking his head.

Slowly and gently, he said, “All right. Let’s… let’s go take a nap, okay?”

“Bu’ I’m not tired.”

Before Sam could open his mouth to speak, a flight attendant stopped at their side and stared at Castiel. Cas put a hand on his shoulder and said with a horrible slur that was getting worse by the second, “M’sorry. I’m jus’ visiting my friend, Sam. I’m in coach with my… my irritable friend an’ it is grating on my patience. Also m’anxious his snoring will burst my f-fragile human ear drums. S’about one notch under angelic voice. I fear for your windows.”

The flight attendant didn’t seem confused or perturbed. He just blinked and said flatly, “Right. Sir, you need to get back to your seat.”

Sam placed a sturdy hand on Castiel’s shoulder and put on his empathetic, puppy dog face. “Sir, I understand it’s against the rules, but can’t he just stay here for a second? The seat belt sign is turned off. I can bring him back to coach in a couple of minutes.”

“You are correct - that is against our policies. No coach passengers are allowed in first class.”

Castiel snorted loudly and waved his hand haphazardly in the air again, swinging almost violently from the handle he was still gripping tightly. Sam jolted beside him, ready to catch him if he went careening forward. Castiel glared at the flight attendant, looking unimpressed.

“Tha’ seems hugely unfair.” He accused, pursing his lips after and making a face he must have thought was effective for… some kind of purpose.

The attendant shook his head. “It is extremely fair. You need to return to your seat.”

“Yes,” Castiel sneered, “You’ve said that. Three times.”

“Look, sir. You need --”

Cas shrugged Sam off and let go off the overhead handle and stumbled back for a moment, “I know, I know. I’m going to return to my seat now. Observe my returning.” Casitel turned to Sam to pat him on the head, and began to stumble back to the curtain he‘d emerged from. He paused to look back at the flight attendant. One would have called it sassy, almost, the way he did it. “One day, you’ll regret your actions when God turns you away from the… the gates of Heaven as you turned me away. ‘Return to your seat, asshole‘, he‘ll say.”

Deadpan and completely unfazed, the attendant raised his eyebrows coolly and said, “I’m shaking in my boots.”

“The fires of Hell await you.”

Sam and Brady followed this exchange, mouths wide and eyes wider. Sam gasped and began to apologize profusely. The man waved Sam off and murmured something about being thankful he was an atheist.

Castiel snorted, “Well, start believing, _friend_. 'cause we all may have averted the Apocalypse this time, but when His fire reigns down on us all, people like you will burn first.”

The flight attendant pointed at Cas and raised his eyebrows at Sam casually, “Jehovah’s Witness?”

Sam winced, “Not quite.”

Castiel rolled his eyes and pointed at the flight attendant, completely unaware of the several pairs of eyes on him. He squinted the man’s name tag and let out a bark of laughter, “Whatever, Tit. What kind of name is ‘Tit‘? Where you very eager as a baby?”

“That is not even close. It’s pronounce Tate. So close though. Better luck next time. You need to get back to your seat.”

“What’re you gon’ do? Lactate on me?” He paused while Sam and Brady let out gasps of shock and the flight attendant sighed loudly. Cas waved his floppy hand and turned around, “But whatever, Tit. You’re just a flight attendant.”

“That is very accurate. And you are still in coach class. Please make your way to your coach class seat.”

At the curtains, Castiel spun around and snapped, “Do you know what I used to be? I used to be a warrior of _God_.”

Flatly, Tate the Flight Attendant said, “I am so happy for you. Please close the curtains behind you as you leave.”

Castiel disappeared through the curtains, though it looked like he perhaps might’ve fallen through them, and Sam took his seat again, apologizing again profusely. The flight attendant disappeared and only then did Sam turned to Brady.

“What the fuck was that?”

Brady shrugged and looked lost. “I don’t know! I think he was drinking. Are angels allowed to drink?”

“He’s not an ange--”

Brady raised a hand to silence Sam. He groaned. “Aw, man. He took those pills I gave him. Then I saw him drinking. I didn’t even make the connection when I was back there. I feel like an idiot.”

Sam slipped down his seat, sliding a hand over his eyes and groaning. “Fuck.”

\- - -

The lavatory door opened and Rufus straightened up from his leaning position just outside the door. The woman he’d been sitting beside earlier stepped out from the bathroom and looked up, groaning and rolling her eyes. Rufus grinned at her and blocked the path back to her seat.

“I see, I see. I see how it is. I got you all wrong. I know where you’re hidin’ the gun.” He looked down at her groin and then back up at her, winking in an exaggerated manner at her. “You sneaky girl.”

She rolled her eyes and pushed him back, stepping out of the washroom and closing the door behind her. She turned to him and narrowed her eyes.

“You are a pig.”

Rufus’s grin smiled, “I love the chase, baby. You just keep pretending you don’t want this,” He ran his hand down the side of his body then pointed at her, “but you can only resist for so long. You and I vibe. I know you can feel it too.”

The woman let her head loll back and she groaned loudly, then she straightened up again, only emphasizing the fact that she was about four inches taller than Rufus. He winked up at her and she scowled.

“Remove yourself from my way, asshole.”

Rufus whistled and rested his hand on the door, winking again at her. “I see what you’re doing. Playing up the power role. I am man enough to admit I‘m a sub.”

“Ugh. Get out of my way before I remove you from this plane myself.”

Rufus nodded and moved out of her way, with a look of realization on his face. “Oh. You’re an air marshall, then?”

“Oh my god. Go away.”

\- - -

 

While Rufus was trying to flirt his way into the Mile High Club (and was failing), behind his empty seat, Bobby and Adam, who was five drinks in, talked in hushed voices. If ’talking’ constituted Bobby blubbering on and Adam drunkenly drinking in ever word.

Sober and completely emotional, Bobby sniffled and tried to wipe a tear from his eye. “I’m… I’m wearing contacts, that’s all.”

Adam wiped his nose and pressed a palm into his eye, “Me… Me too. Stupid contacts.”

Bobby cleared his throat and continued on, his voice shaking, “Anyway… I didn’t get to live my life fully because of Karen’s death. It was shitty. It was really shitty, being left alone with no family to leave anything to. But I’m telling’ yeh, it gets better. For me, I got to take care of Dean and Sam. I got someone else to live for. For you, you’ll… you’ll probably meet some nice girl,” He paused, glancing at Adam, and murmured, “Or boy.”

Adam stopped sniffling for a moment to look confused, but Bobby continued, leaning and patting his knee. “You have to find something to live for. To smile for. You gotta smile, Adam. The hunting life ain’t much of a life most of the time for us hunters. People who know about all that stuff, they don’t feel like other people. Adam,” Bobby squeezed his knee and Adam’s chin began to wobble, “You’re my boy. You went through some shit. But you just fucking remember that you saved the world, and now you get to live in it. You live yourself a life, Adam. Don’t turn out like I did. D-Don’t turn out like John.”

“Bobby, stop. Don’t say that--” Adam said, finally able to blurt out a full thought. Bobby’s hand retreated and he raised it to his eyes, breathing in deeply.

“No, Adam. No. For a long time, I’d given up. I thought the only person in the world worth living for was gone and it ruined me. I didn’t live. I… Adam, you fuckin‘ smile, boy. You‘re a Winchester. You‘re as strong as they come. I know the world looks dark without your mom in it, but she‘s still watchin‘ you. You‘d better shape up. John would kill me if you were unhappy. Adam, my boy --”

“Oh, shut up, Dumbledore.” Rufus barked as he returned to his seat. Bobby lowered his hat over his eyes and Adam let out a sob into his drink.

\- - -

Lights flickered and the cabin trembled. Castiel’s stomach shot up into his throat and he felt the overwhelming urge to empty his stomach contents onto his lap. But he swallowed thickly and made a horrible yelping noise when the plane seemed to drop a dozen feet in the air. Without a thought, he grabbed Dean’s hand and squeezed. Dean, who had somehow been sleeping through the turbulence, jolted awake and gasped as if he had been holding his breath. He opened his mouth to ask Cas what was wrong, but Castiel was staring out the window in horror. Dean looked at Cas, then at the window and back at Cas.

“What? What?!”

Turbulence forgotten, Castiel pushed Dean back against the seat and leaned over him, staring in absolute terror out the window.

“Oh my g… Dean. _Dean. Look._ ” He hissed, pointing out the window and poking Dean drunkenly. Dean, who was still completely hammered, leaned to look out the window.

“What? I can’t see an’thing. S’dark.”

“You don’t see it?” Castiel groaned, looking panicked, “Dean, there’s black smoke coming from the wing. Dean, black smoke.”

Dean’s eyes widened and then he looked positively gleeful, “Demons!? We get t'fight demons?”

Castiel looked horrified, “Demons?! Dean, I can’t fight demons!”

“We’ve fought ‘em before! What the hell, Cas?”

Castiel looked like if he wasn’t strapped into a chair he would have fallen to the ground in hysterics. “I-I can’t! I’m human. Crowley was right - I’m weak… Oh _no_. This is the day I die. This is the day I get dragged into Hell. _No. Nononono._ It‘s too soon.”

Dean grabbed Castiel and shook him, “Calm down, Cas!”

Casitle shoved him off, scrambling to get his seat belt off, but his vision was swimming and his hands were clumsy. He started whispering in Enochian, while Dean looked thoughtful.

“What a second! There aren’t anymore demons. Sam got rid of m’all.” Dean looked depressed suddenly, slumping back against his seat.

Castiel wasn’t so convinced. He finally got his safety belt off and he got to his feet. He looked up and around. Dean reached out to pull him down right when the plane gave a horrible lurch. Cas grabbed onto Dean to steady himself, then he yelled, “Dean, there is black smoke coming from the wing! I saw it!”

Around him, people gasped. He ignored him and focused on Dean, his eyes widening, “There are demons. Demons, Dean!”

Dean stared back at him, then slowly whispered, “Sam fucked up. Sam fucked up. There are demons on this plane... _Fuck yeah_ , there are demons on this plane! Let’s kick some ass!”

The plane trembled violently, people screamed, Dean jumped up, pushed past Castiel, and tore their bags from the compartment above them, pulling out a bottle of holy water and a packet of salt.

Castiel watched Dean with a look of panic, then he yelled with a tone of obvious distress, “No! No! I can’t! They’ll kill me! Oh no. We’re all going to die!”

“Stop being a coward!” Dean yelled back, “No ones going to die.”

“Oh, be realistic! You are drunk!”

“Okay, only some people are migh' die! An' shut up, so are you!”

“We have to open the doors! We have to get out here!” Cas jumped past Dean and began running down the aisle. There was more turbulence, and because of Castiel and Dean people were screaming in panic. Dean became hyper aware even in his drunken state that maybe they’d over reacted and there weren’t demons. Over the P.A, a woman was reminding passengers not to panic, that there was just a little bit of turbulence.

He was thrown back into his seat and he took the opportunity to look out the window. Okay, no smoke. Castiel was just bat shit insane. Speaking of Cas, the nerdy little dude ran pretty fast for a drunken psycho. By the time Dean turned completely around, he had disappeared through the first class curtains in a blur. Two flight attendants were running after him.

\- - -

Up in first class, Sam heard screams from behind the curtains and panicked yelling. Then two flight attendants zoomed past them. Brady and Sam exchange looks and jumped to their feet. Rufus, Bobby, and Adam joined in, looking at each other in panic. What the hell was going on?

Their question was answered when Castiel came zooming through the curtain, closely followed by a flight attendant on either side of him.

“Sam! Demons!” He yelled in passing.

“What?” Sam yelled over all the noise.

“Black smoke coming from the wing!” Cas yelled as he jumped up onto a chair and walked over a couple screaming passengers to escape capture. “We have to get out of here! I can’t do this! I’m human, I’m weak, I can’t smite! I’m -- I’m too drunk for this!”

Dean burst through the curtain and grabbed Tit the flight attendant as he began gaining on Cas. He yanked the attendant down onto the floor and yelled over the panicked noise, “Cas! Get back here! If you make me climb over people, I… I might puke! I am not… GET BACK HERE.”

There was a grunt from Rufus as he was shoved aside. The woman he‘d been sitting beside raised a taser in the air and screamed, “All right! Everybody remain calm down! I’m an air marshal!”

She ran after Cas, and managed to tackle him right through the curtain and into the prep area. Rufus let out a whoop of joy, “That‘s my girl!”

“Oh, shut up.” Bobby growled.

\- - -

 

“I can’t even make fun of you because you look so freakin’ sad.”

“You,” Castiel sniffed from Dean’s lap, “are not allowed to talk to me.”

Dean ruffled Cas’ hair and sighed. “No one put a gun to your head and made you drink.”

“I’m so embarrassed.” whispered Castiel, holding a cold towel over his face. He pulled his legs up to his chest and shuddered. From what Dean could see of Castiel’s face peeking out from under the towel, he was still a sickly mix of purple and green.

“You should be embarrassed. You thought the plane was being attacked by demons. I gotta admit though, it was pretty hilarious watching you get escorted off of a plane in hand cuffs. I think the only reason you’re not going to prison is because they probably figured you’re absolutely bat-shit crazy…. You gonna be sick again?”

Castiel responded by vomiting onto the floor. Dean lifted his feet and groaned.

“That is so freakin’ nasty. You couldn’t have puked in the toilet like three feet away?”

Cas shuddered and wiped his mouth on his sleeve, trembling and breathing heavily. He rested his head back on Dean’s leg and made a miserable noise before he said, “I am not going anywhere near a jail cell toilet. I’m newly human and prone to disease. I can practically see the bacteria crawling all over the seat.”

Dean shifted a bit and rested his legs up on the bench to their left to avoid the vomit on the floor. He looked around and shrugged, “I can’t say it’s the nicest drunk tank I’ve seen in my days, but it’s up there. These airport security cells are actually kinda nice. Pretty clean. We‘ve got this one all to ourselves, which is nice.” He paused, then added conversationally, “This is how a lot of pornos start off. Though usually the chick isn‘t blowing chunks all over the floor.”

Castiel made a gagging noise.

Dean raised his eyebrows. “That’s actually more like it.”

\- - -

 

Sam and the rest of his groomsmen waited outside the security facilities for Dean and Castiel in the morning, all looking exhausted and angry. In a group, they took a shuttle to the bus station, and then hopped on a bus back home. Just outside of Colorado, the boys had ten hours ahead of them on a small, hot bus. It wasn’t the heat that made the trip horrible for Dean, it was the tension that was so thick in the air between his brother and himself that he almost choked on it.

Two hours into their trip, Dean finally broke the silence. He turned to Sam and nudged him. Sam ignored him for a second, then seemed to gather his bearings and he looked over at his brother, looking calm on the outside, though his eyes flashed.

“What’s up, Dean?” Sam asked quietly, plastering a forced smile on his lips.

Dean swallowed heavily and his heart dropped. “Sam, I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean for this to turn into such a disaster… I… Um, I’m gonna make it up to you. I really should’ve kept an eye on Cas. I know he’s not good with drinking. But you know, those pills Brady gave him --”

Sam raised a hand quickly, then seemed to reconsider and he lowered it, visibly trying to calm himself. When he spoke, his voice was steady and slow.

“Look, Dean. It wasn’t Brady or Castiel’s fault. It’s nobody’s fault. It was just… crappy circumstance, that’s all.”

Sam looked away, seeming to be done with the conversation. Dean stared at his brother, feeling lost. He didn’t know what to say.

Struggling for words to make Sammy feel better, he nudged his brother again and smiled sheepishly, “I’m kinda a crappy best man, huh?”

Sam didn’t seem amused. He turned to Dean and swallowed hard. “Look, Dean. I’ve been thinking about this best man thing. You’re my brother and… and I love you,” Although Dean didn’t verbally return the sentiment (he almost never did), his heart squeezed happily, “I really do. But I don’t know if you should continue as my best man.”

Then his heart squeezed horribly. Dean sat up so quickly in his chair he was convinced he broke something or tore a muscle in his back. “No, Sam. Wait. I've been meaning to talk to Bobby about the rehearsal dinner and --”

Sam held up a hand again and his calm composer slipped a little, “No. Dean, listen. I should have known this was too much responsibility for you.” And then Sam paused, noticing the way Dean looked out the window and seemed to shrink a bit. He sighed and grabbed Dean’s wrist, giving it a tug. Dean looked over at his brother and smiled forcedly.

Sam continued, “You have _other_ responsibilities that are really important. I know you don’t have a lot of money right now, and that’s okay. I get that you have a job, and bills, and Cas is clearly still having a really, really hard time with adjusting to being human. You’re a great guy for helping him with that. I wish I could help out more with the both of your lives.” Sam paused, looking out the window, “It’s a lot to handle. I don’t blame you. You’re just not in a good place for this right now.”

The two brothers fell silent as their gazes met, both slightly sad and resigned. Sam tried to smile but he failed and just shrugged instead. “I think I want Brady to just carry on from here. He has his shit together, you know? And he likes helping Sarah out with the wedding. He likes helping _me_ out, mostly. He’s trying really hard to make everything up to me, so right now I’m kinda willing to let him. He can afford it, he doesn’t mind, and, dude, I really want you to just focus on yourself right now. Pay your bills, hang out with Cas… do your thing.”

“Sammy…”

“You’re not any less of my brother just because you’re not my best man.”

“Yeah… yeah, okay.“ Dean nodded and tried to smile, though his chin was starting to wobble. He turned away from Sam’s pleading gaze and stared out the window, blinking away tears.

\- - -

When Castiel and Dean arrived at their apartment, the two dragged their feet inside, wordlessly dropping bags by the door and instantly splitting ways. Castiel disappeared into the bathroom, and a minute later the shower could be heard on full blast through the wall. Dean walked into his bedroom and collapsed on the bed, pulling the covers over his entire body.

He remained in his sanctuary until the shower turned off, he heard the soft noise of Castiel’s feet move lightly through the apartment and disappear into his own room. Dean threw the covers off and took his own shower, moving slowly through the steam-filled bathroom and feeling more depressed than he could remember feeling in a long time.

When he emerged from his own shower that had been ice cold thanks to Castiel’s constant state of needing to be warm, he dressed in a t-shirt and boxer briefs, too sad to be embarrassed. He walked into the living room and was surprised to see Castiel sitting in darkness in front of the television with a beer in his hand and a cold one waiting on the coffee table to his right. Dean grabbed it up and sat down beside Cas.

A movie was on that was black and white, though neither of the men were paying much attention. Occasionally, Dean or Cas would get up to get more beer or a hand would move to grab chips from a bowl balanced on Castiel’s lap, but other than that the two friends sat on the couch for a couple of hours, watching one movie’s credits disappear and another appear as a second show started.

Soft, old music played quietly and sweetly through the credits, casting the room into soft darkness. Neither spoke until the music faded out, and then Castiel rested his head on Dean’s shoulder, saying so quietly it was almost a whisper, “I miss my family.”

Dean thought of Sam and the Impala, of mornings at Bobby’s after the apocalypse when they’d all share a table. He, Cas, Sam, Bobby, and sometimes even Adam if he decided to emerge from his dark bedroom to join the world of the living, eating eggs and drinking warm, bitter coffee together. Dean thought of John and Mary, all incarnations he’d met of them, and how much he missed them. Then he thought of Sam telling him he didn’t want him to be his best man anymore.

“Me too.”

Dean raised a hand slowly and ran his fingers through Castiel’s hair. The moment was so quiet and calm that it didn’t even seem out of the ordinary to be practically cuddling with his best friend. Dean Winchester did not cuddle with anyone. There was no touching between man friends ever allowed.

But Castiel was not Rufus or Ash or any other male friend he’d ever had. Castiel was Cas, his angel, his first ever real best friend. Castiel was family. And Cas was clearly hurting pretty bad.

At least, that’s the excuse Dean gave himself when he lifted his hand from Castiel’s head and realized he’d placed a kiss atop it without meaning to. Cas leaned away and looked up at Dean with surprise. The opening credits of another film started up, though neither men looked over at them. Castiel’s eyes were wide and a tad frightened looking. But even in the darkness, his cheeks were flushed red. Dean felt himself grow warm in his cheeks as well, and felt a rush of heat settle in a pool deep in his belly and between his legs. Then he leaned in and saw something darker, something like lust, behind those slightly frightened eyes.

He told himself the next morning that they’d both been drinking for hours and neither had eaten much, but at the time, Dean hadn’t felt very drunk or confused. When he leaned in and kissed Cas, it kind of felt right. It was the first fucked up thing to feel right since Sam had gone to meet up with Sarah again.

Cas wasn’t very good at kissing, but he was eager. At first, he’d pulled away, looking anxious, as if he expected Dean to hit him in the face. It slowly occurred to Dean that he hadn’t been the only one leaning in.

A few shy kisses, a bowl of chips tossed on the floor, and a hand slipped under a waistband later, and Dean was on top of Cas, running his free hand through Cas’ hair and over his face in a hurry, clutching at his neck and tugging at his t-shirt. They didn’t break their kiss much but only to breathe. A black and white movie played to their right though neither could tell which movie it was. Gentle blue light was cast over them as they rubbed together ever so clumsily, drunk from the alcohol and dizzy from their frantic, ever hurrying breathless kissing. Cas shook with nervousness at first, trembling softly against Dean’s lips until Dean murmured something softly against them.

Perhaps Dean had been more drunk than he thought. The next morning he couldn’t remember for the life of him what he’d said, although he vividly remembered that when he finally did speak and break the kiss, that Cas wasn’t shaking anymore and the fright in his eyes had disappeared. Instead it was replaced with something else more soft, more warm than he could remember seeing in Cas’ eyes in a long time.

Somehow, the night ended with a gorgeous, deep moan from Cas, a hard, wet kiss against his lips, and the smell of their shampoo and soap mingled with sweat and sex. The next morning, many of the details were blurred, but Dean woke up warm and rested, despite having fallen asleep on their crappy, soft sofa. He pulled the body at his side closer and ran a hand sleepily through the head of hair tucked under his chin. Dean hummed softly and tapped his half-socked foot against the opposite arm rest to a soft, swaying song straight out of a 1940’s black and white film that played in his head. He wondered where he’d heard the music, and then memories hit him so hard he almost physically felt the blow.

Dean opened his eyes and looked down at the tangle of limbs. His heart hammered in his chest and he became hyper aware of a dry sort of stickiness in his boxers and against his leg. Oh shit.

“Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Ohshit. Ohshitohshitohshit.” Dean whispered, slowly trying to worm his way out of the tangle of arms and legs. It made it harder because one of his arms was extremely numb and extremely pinned underneath the sleeping body beside him. Another issue was the hand softly pressed against the handprint burnt into his shoulder.

When he finally extracted himself from that horrifying game of Twister, Dean stood there with his hands tangled in his hair, staring down at Cas, who snoozed on, moving only to nuzzle into a pillow and curl into himself.

Dean’s hands slipped down from his hair and settled over his eyes. “ _No_. Dean, you did not kiss Cas. You did not fucking touch Castiel‘s dick. Oh my god.”

Dean walked slowly into his room and looked around, apparently lost. He peered at himself in the mirror, taking in the disheveled hair and his wrinkled clothing, as well as the dry patch at the front of his underwear.

Oh God. He’d come in his pants because Cas had rubbed up against him.

As he had jerked him off in return.

While they kissed.

And Castiel moaned in that absolutely _beautiful_ way.

Dean sat down on his bed and buried his head in his hands. Then he slowly got up and closed the door. He returned to the bed, raised a pillow to his face, and roared into it.

Then he got dressed and went to work, one hundred percent attempting to convince himself that it was all Castiel’s fault.

It turned out, the dishevelled, just-rolled-out-of-bed-and-totally-did-not-have-a-big-gay-freakout look was appealing to the ladies, because for whatever reason the girls chose that day to really come on to Dean.

At first though, he had walked in with the intention of staring down every girl’s shirt and making every flirtatious comment that came to mind as he walked in, just to reinforce his heterosexuality, but suddenly as he pushed open the lobby door and spotted a couple of them hanging out behind reception, he turned on his heel, veered down a corridor to his left, and disappeared into the bathroom.

He wanted to go home. He felt sick. He didn’t want to be around people. He was confused and really, really angry. Part of him was angry at himself for coming on to Cas because of his own self image - did this make him gay? Was he gay? - but a larger part of him was angry at himself because what did this mean for Cas? This was probably a hundred times more confusing for him. And what was it going to be like between them at home now? Dean pressed his palms into his eyes and rested back against a stall wall, stopping to just take in the silence for a couple of moments. He’d quite possibly ruined everything with Cas.

And what was worse, was that he wasn’t actually _that_ freaked out about physical part of hooking up with Cas, as much as he told himself he should be. He was more frightened about what Cas would think - or rather, _imagine_. What if _he_ didn’t think this was a mistake? Oh God. He’d have to let Cas down as easily as possible.

Wait, did this make Cas gay? Was he gay?

Deep down, he wondered briefly if he’d been any good. Castiel seemed to really like it, if his soft, deep moans or the way he pushed up into Dean’s hand was any indication.

Dean’s hands fell to his side and he readjusted the strap of his bag over his shoulder.

“Dean, just flirt with girls, sell some memberships, talk up some clients, and then go home. One thing at a time. Everything will go back to normal, you‘ll see.” He whispered to himself, trying to infuse some confidence into himself and still his shaking hands.

\- - -

Most of the younger women at Dean’s workplace knew what kind of guy he was. Though for a lot of these women, at first they fell for his youthful, cheeky grin and shining green eyes. They enjoyed running their hands over his back and broad shoulders because they knew he would let hem, that he welcomed it. The girls seemed to like the way he made them feel. He was the attractive older man with a young spirit, an eagerness to make friends, and an ever greater eagerness to make each and every woman feel special and wanted. Sure, they knew a lot of it was façade, but that playful gleam in his eye that was real.

And hey, Dean didn’t mind entertaining their illusions of an older mature man with experience and a willingness to please.

Though the other men that worked there didn’t like Dean that much. Dean figured they were just jealous because all their girlfriends loved him and all the single girls wanted his ‘experienced bod‘. But truthfully, mostly they disliked him because he somehow managed to charm almost anyone into buying overpriced memberships and work out gear.

The girls all loved him even after he took them out, got to ‘know them’, and let them down gently after. He had a softness, a genuineness to him that demanded forgiveness and received affections from everyone.

But for whatever reason, Dean was off his game today, many of the staff noticed. He was quiet. He needed a nudge to get him to notice gym members walk up to his area of reception. He actually forgot to take one of his breaks that he usually liked to extend past their limits. He lost sales, turned down flirtations from the new hires, and complained about feeling tired. Even the other men on staff paused to ask him what was wrong. Finally, nearing lunch when the floor manager called him aside, Dean asked to go home.

\- - -

He hadn’t been completely lying. Dean really didn’t feel like himself. Sure, he wasn’t sick-sick, but he definitely wasn’t performing properly.

Also, he wanted to get home before Cas did so he could avoid seeing him.

\- - -

Dean enjoyed the extra hours to himself that day following his leave from work. He ate all of the chocolate hidden on top of the fridge, watched crappy day time court room reality TV, and finally showered. As the water splashed down onto him and he rubbed the skin on his shoulder over the burn, he felt a jolt of heat shoot down between his legs in a familiar sensation. He remembered the hand resting over the hand print earlier that morning and a different kind of warmth settled in his chest, making his stomach flutter softly. Then it clenched horribly and he felt sick for feeling these confusing emotions. He was no longer drunk and sad, he did not _still_ need to be aroused over Cas.

Still, he rested a hand on his handprint, digging his fingernails into his skin and slipping his other hand down his torso.

When he emerged from the bathroom, Cas was just entering his room. Apparently he’d arrived home from work while Dean had been showering. Blue eyes blinked slowly, flashing down to where Dean clutched the towel to his waist, and then down to the floor, a blush colouring high cheekbones.

With as much subtlety as a punch in the throat, Castiel looked up at Dean and said quite honestly, “I don’t know how to act in front of you now. What is customary when two friends end up… kissing drunkenly? I feel like I’ve seen a movie about this. I‘m almost completely certain there have been several movies made about this.”

Dean was becoming too overwhelmed by Castiel’s bashful and wandering eyes, his nervous blathering, and just by Castiel in general. He found something unnerving about the fact that Cas had been just outside the bathroom door while Dean had a quick tug in the shower over a drunken, blurred memory of him. A vivid memory of Cas pushing up underneath him and vibrations of Castiel’s moans against his lips flashed across Dean’s mind.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Dean said, moving from that bathroom door to his own bedroom door in two quick strides, his hand clutching the towel around his waist. He was going to slam the door behind him, but for whatever reason some higher power forced him to look over at Castiel, who looked confused, and even slightly hurt - if Dean squinted hard enough.

But mostly, Castiel looked uncomfortable. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and scratched at his cheek where there was a smear of pollen.

“You’re avoiding the subject.”

Dean sighed guiltily and relaxed a bit, shrugging. “Look, I had a weird day. Can we talk some other time? I need to… I dunno, _nap_.”

Cas stared at Dean, his blue eyes very open and honest, his mouth turning down into a disappointed frown. There was a pregnant silence. Then Cas nodded and murmured, “Of course.”

Swiftly, he turned away and disappeared down the short hallway into the kitchen, a squareness to his shoulders that made Dean’s stomach clench guiltily.

Dean stepped out to follow him, saying loudly, “Cas, look, you don‘t have to … Cas!”

But Castiel either didn’t hear him or didn’t respond purposely, because there was no reply and the only sound that was heard was dripping from the showerhead in the bathroom and Cas running water in the kitchen. Dean exhaled slowly through his nose and stepped back into his room, closing the door behind him.

\- - -

The next couple of weeks went by slower than any others Dean had ever experienced.

It seemed Sam was angrier about the Las Vegas flight ordeal than he’d originally let on. It became increasingly harder to get a hold of him. Whenever Dean called or texted him, the conversations lasted no longer than a minute, and that was when Sam replied at all. He saw Sam once a week on lucky weeks, but each time something seemed off and Sam seemed distracted. By the time week four rolled around, Dean was driving up past Sam and Sarah’s apartment once a day to hopefully run into one of them.

His relationship with Castiel wasn’t going any better either. Despite living together, it seemed Castiel was a hard person to run into. He left early in the mornings and came home later in the evenings now. He had no idea where Cas went off to. He didn’t have any other friends… did he? Dean often felt a pang of jealousy, then dismissed it immediately. Dean just needed to get laid, to get his mind off of their mistake hook-up. Because that’s what it had been - a mistake. It wasn’t happening again. It hadn’t meant anything.

Right?

No, it hadn’t. Dean only craved Castiel’s company because they were friends. He just wanted to talk to him again, to sit with him and watch TV with him again because they were friends. He missed coming home and playing cards with Cas, his friend. If since the hook-up he woke up in a hot sweat every night from Cas-shaped dreams, it was because he missed him and his dreams were completely interpreting his feelings wrong. It was because he needed to get laid…. By a woman. That was his story and he was sticking to it.

The second time he kissed Cas, it had been completely unplanned, as the first time had been.

In the morning that day, Castiel had finally approached him. Dean had been seated at the kitchen table, sipping coffee and shoving his abandoned cereal - now grey and mushy - around the bowl. With Sam taking a weekend trip with Sarah to her parents’ cabin, he was bored and for whatever reason awake at eight in the morning with nothing to do on a Saturday. He’d had some trouble falling back asleep after waking up at six in the morning with a painfully hard erection and his roommate's name moaned into his pillow. The morning had thus far consisted of a cold shower, a half-assed attempt at watching weekend morning anime, and opening and closing kitchen cabinets in an exhausted and lazy attempt to find food. He needed to hunt. This was just getting ridiculous. He was growing too restless.

Cas had sat down across from him, half scared to death from the surprise and half scaring him to death because of the very frightening possibility of confrontation. Which, because of Castiel’s very nature, of course happened.

Castiel blinked at him from across the table and then he blurted out, “I’ve been avoiding you.”

Dean looked across the table at Castiel, trying his best to look uninterested. “Really?”

Castiel was silent for a moment, obviously working out what he was going to say, before he nodded shortly. “Yes. I haven’t known what to say to you, to be honest. But I realized how cowardly I’ve been behaving and so I’m sorry, Dean.”

Dean shrugged, lowering his eyes back to his mess of a breakfast. “Whatever. It doesn‘t matter.”

He could feel Cas staring at him from across the table, the stare and the silence alone enough to made Dean’s stomach start to hurt. It might’ve been the expired cereal though.

“Are you not angry with me?”

 _Yes._ “Nope.”

Castiel visibly relaxed and he nodded, the lines around his eyes softening and his squared shoulders dropped. He nodded and then slipped a piece of paper across the table. “That is a relief, because I’ve been wanting to give you this for a couple of days now but since becoming human I’ve found my pain tolerance is rather low and I didn’t want you to hit me.”

Dean finally looked up and really looked at Cas, the lines around his own eyes deepening as he frowned and his eyebrows furrowed. “What the hell are you talking about?”

\- - -

Turns out, the piece of paper had been Sam and Sarah’s very fancy wedding invitation. Dean had read it over and over again until even Cas got up and left because he had to go to work. He had no idea how long he’d sat there after, just staring at the curly, golden font before he pushed aside his bowl and rested his forehead against the table, squeezing the stiff paper so hard in his hand he got a series of paper cuts on his palm.

Around noon he started drinking. By the time Cas got home at five o’clock, Dean was sitting on the couch, sweating from the drinking and staring at a tv that had clearly turned off on sleep mode. Cas approached him and raised a wrinkled, white card that looked suspiciously like Sam’s wedding invitation, though it had a dirty, grey foot print on it.

“I found this on the sidewalk outside the building. Did you throw it out the window?”

“No.”

“Dean.”

“I di’n’t. A gust a’ wind whipped it outta m’hand.”

Cas sat down beside him and rested a hand on his shoulder. Dean looked over, his reaction delayed, and Cas wasn’t surprised to see tears in his eyes. Dean blinked slowly at him and Cas exhaled, tilting his head and stared back with a twin look of sadness look in his face, his fingers curling into Dean’s shirt.

Dean leaned forward and kissed Cas, his breathe hitching against his lips as he tried to hold back a sob he’d been holding back for hours. Castiel responded quickly, taking the beer out of Dean’s hand without looking and setting on the table beside him. He shuffled forward and wrapped his arms around Dean, stroking his back comfortingly and holding his face. They both knew they shouldn’t let themselves continue, but Dean felt so warm, so electrified when Cas held him and ran his hands over his skin. Maybe it was his drunk daze but everything felt suddenly right again. Castiel smelt perfect and floral - in the way most girls tried to smell with perfumes and lotions. But Cas didn’t smell feminine- just of softness and home. He smelt warm- like soil and the flower shop, and the smell of a fresh, fluffy laundry. It was all ridiculously chick-flicky but Dean thought he might understand why people loved chick-flicks so much. Though if he started thinking Cas smelt like a warm summer’s morning or something, he’d have to cut their cable.

This time they didn’t go much further. All Dean could take was lips against his own and a warm body pressed up beside him. He forgot all about Sam and his wedding, about Brady, about the way he felt like nothing was right with him anymore. In the moment when he fell asleep and heard Castiel whisper, ‘I love you’ to him, he couldn’t remember what ‘wrong’ felt like.

\- - -

Hours later, Dean woke up to the sound of quiet talking from the kitchen. He lifted his head from the pillow and squinted past the muted TV - playing another black and white movie - and out the window. It was dark outside. Dean wondered what time it was and how long he’d been sleeping. Slowly, he slung his legs over the edge of the sofa and sat up, groaning. It probably had been a bad idea to start drinking at noon.

Castiel’s low rumbling voice stopped and Dean heard him making noises of agreement before there was the familiar clicking of their phone and Castiel appeared from the kitchen, sliding the phone into it’s holder beside their sofa. Dean looked up at Castiel and he rubbed at his face, wiping sleep from his eyes and asking roughly, “Who was that?”

Castiel was peering at him oddly, his hands bunching and un-bunching in his pockets for a moment before he answered slowly, “It was Bobby.”

Dean looked up at Castiel again, frowning. “What was he calling about?”

“Actually, I called him.” Castiel replied, redness creeping onto his face. He shrugged and admitted, “I wanted to know if he had any case we could help with.”

Dean stiffened and he looked away, narrowing his eyes at the soundless images flickering across the screen. He clenched his jaw and said through gritted teeth, “Oh yeah? What’d he say?”

“He said he has a case just a state over if we’re willing to take it. I told him we would if you’re up to it.”

Something hot rose up inside of Dean and his teeth clenched together angrily. He turned to look at Castiel with a hard expression on his face. “I promised Sam I wouldn’t.”

Cas sat on the arm of the sofa and stared at the television, shrugging his shoulders again. After a moment, he looked at Dean and said quietly, “I know. But you’ve stopped being yourself lately, Dean. It’s like you’re broken.” For the first time in a long time, Castiel seemed unsure of what to say. He rubbed his palms up and down his thighs. “You need to do what you love. Dean, you have to hunt. I see what’s happening, I know you feel as if everything you love is slipping through your fingers. You’re not meant to be a membership salesman at a gym--”

Dean got to his feet so quickly Castiel’s expression faltered for a moment and his eyes betrayed him, looking suddenly unsure. Dean leaned forward and hissed, “Well aren’t you insightful?”

“Come on, Dean.” Castiel said, “Don’t act like this. I wasn’t trying to --”

Dean raised a finger and pointed so sharply, Cas seemed to flinch.

“No. You are not doing this. Don’t you fucking try to ‘fix’ me,” Dean snarled, “I’m not broken. Don’t think for one second just because I made the stupid, reckless mistake to shove my tongue down your throat that suddenly you’ve become ‘special’.”

Castiel was no delicate flower. Redness flooded his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. The former angel narrowed his eyes and looked torn between anger and hurt- not that it stopped Dean. As a matter of fact, getting a rise out of Cas only fuelled the fire. He didn’t know why but suddenly Dean was furious. How dare Cas try to get him to hunt? To betray his promise to Sam?

“You don’t need fixing. I just thought--” Castiel started up, trying to defend himself, though Dean held up a hand and stopped him.

“No, I _don’t_ need fixing! Don’t you forget that you’re not an angel anymore! They kicked you out, remember? You can’t help _anyone_. You can’t heal wounds. You can’t make people feel better by laying hands on them anymore. You’re useless, Cas. You’re not my guardian anymore. So quit trying to save me. I don‘t fucking need saving.”

Cas wasn’t looking at him anymore. Furious blue eyes glared at the floor and his shoulders were slumped forward and stiff. Hoarsely, Cas rasped, “Stop.”

But Dean was on a roll. “You’re not a special friend now because I drank too much and rubbed up on you a couple times. It’s just what I do to cope with stress, that’s all. Sorry if I led you on but this doesn’t mean you can go and try to become number one in my life. You’re just my friend. We’re not gonna go hunting to make me feel better. We’re not going hunting for any reason. You need to figure out your place. Sam comes first. It’s not gonna suddenly be ‘Dean and Cas’ now that Sam’s married.”

He wasn’t sure why he said that, but when the words tumbled past his lips, it was suddenly too late and Dean wasn’t angry anymore. As a matter of fact, he was slightly mortified. He stepped back, shocked at how angry he’d gotten and how quickly the anger had disappeared. It might’ve been due to the terrible hurt that Cas was trying so hard to hide. His face was emotionless but somehow he looked small. Dean stepped forward and outstretched a hand to rest on Castiel’s shoulder, suddenly overcome with the need to be forgiven, when Cas jerked away from him and slid off the arm rest, stepping back and away.

“Cas, I --”

Castiel kept his eyes lowered but raised his hand to stop Dean. He very firmly said, “You owe me your half of the rent for this month.”

Dean blinked, taken aback. “What? That’s it?”

“Was there something else you expected me to say?” Castiel asked in such a normal, patient way that it made Dean want to throw something.

“”I… Well… Jesus, Cas. Fight back or something.”

Finally Castiel looked up and Dean could tell something inside him snapped. Suddenly Cas was inches away from him. He shoved Dean up against a wall, his lip curled in fury.

“I fought the armies of Hell to pull you out. For _years_ I fought with the fury of a million of Hell’s most tormented souls just to bring you back. When faced with an impending apocalypse, I fought against my own family to save yours. Along side you, I fought against the Morning Star to save your shitty human race at the cost of my own life.”

Dean grasped at Castiel’s hands as they twisted in his shirt. He tried to peel his fingers apart and escape, though effort was futile. For a moment, it was as if Castiel was an angel again and Dean was just a weak, fragile human. Except Cas was panting against his lips and the fingers curled around the fabric of his shirt were trembling in a way that only a human could.

“I sold my very essence to a demon for the sake of ‘Dean and Sam’. I did it all for _you_. For you and your brother. I sacrificed everything that I was for the sake of ‘Dean and Sam’, so don’t think for a single moment that I would ever attempt or want to come between you ‘Dean and Sam‘. I apologize for giving you that impression. Trust me, all that I am ever aware of is my _place_.”

Dean gripped Castiel’s wrists and whispered, ‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Cas--”

Castiel released him and raised a hand to silence him. He stepped back and said weakly, “No, I’m sorry. I tried, Dean. I tried. I’m exhausted.”

Dean didn’t stop him when he disappeared into his room and closed the door quietly. Dean pressed back against the wall and squeezed his eyes shut, wondering if there were enough beers in the fridge to drink himself to sleep.


	7. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> S6 AU (And sort of S5 AU after 5.10 - Ellen dies but Jo lives and Brady doesn't die in 5.20). Set two years after the apocalypse that never happened. When Sam is due to get married and appoints Dean as his best man, chaos ensues. Especially since Sam's rekindled friendship with Brady has been getting in between the Winchesters' brotherly bond. Dean struggles with his life as it doesn't go according to plan, Bobby is in sober and actually happy, Jo has a boyfriend that is much too attractive, and Cas deals with being human a tad poorly. Oh, and why does everyone think Cas and Dean are boyfriends?

“Hey Sam.”

Dean raised his head from it’s resting place on his chest and stared out his driver’s seat window, watching cars zoom by him on the freeway. He tried to speak but a lump in his throat silenced him. He swallowed thickly for a couple seconds, the hand holding his phone. He trembled lightly for a moment before he consciously made an effort to calm himself down.

Under him, the Impala rumbled quietly. Dean inhaled deeply and wiped his nose on the back of his hand, swiping his fingers under his eyes to catch any rogue tears that definitely were not there.

“Hey Sammy,” he tried again. Dean swallowed thickly and sat back, pushing his back hard against the seat. He rubbed his hand against the wheel, staring at it through blurred vision. With all of the will he possessed, he tried to sound cheery as he continued.

Injecting a fake laugh that sounded more nervous than happy, Dean said, “This so far has been the shittiest voice mail that ever existed.”

He eased his tight grip on his steering wheel and stared out the window.

“Sam, I know you’re still really pissed over the Vegas thing. I’m really sorry about that. I’m a pretty garbage brother. Even worse best man. But, uh… I hope you’re doin’ all right and the wedding plans are going… well. I got your email and yeah, I’m totally gonna be at your rehearsal dinner. I know I’ve been a huge disappointment, but I wouldn’t miss the dinner for the world, y’know? You‘re only getting married once… hopefully.”

Dean tried laughing again. A silence fell and he struggled for more to say. He had so many things to tell Sam, but for whatever reason nothing was coming out of his mouth. Dean struggled, then continued, his voice falling flat on the happiness-front. “Uh, as for me… The excitement never stops. I‘m so stupid I‘ve even been making you a gift… hopin‘ you‘ll forgive my stupid ass…” He tried to laugh again but instead he audibly swallowed, and suddenly blurted out miserably, “I slept with Cas. Well, no. I didn‘t sleep with him, but we… did stuff. You know… Aw, fuck.”

Dean’s head rested on the steering wheel and he gripped the phone hard in his hand. He pictured Sam’s face when he heard those words, he could just picture his eyes going wide and his mouth opening and closing like a six foot tall fish.

Dean laughed at that.

“We had a fight a couple weeks ago and he isn’t talking to me anymore. He won’t even look at me. Figures, huh? Leave it up to me to ruin every friendship I ever had.” Again, he laughed, but it fell flat when he inhaled sharply and his stupid chin started to crumple and wobble. He was _not_ going to cry in a voicemail. It was bad enough he was a crier at all. “I’m not gay, if that’s what you’re thinking. I was just really drunk. We both were… both times. I just… You don’t’ need to know details. I just ruined everything. As always. Someone is really nice to me and I just fuck it up. He‘s my best friend, we have a fuck load in common. Hah, never thought I’d say this about Cas.” Dean paused to press his free hand against his eyes. “Fuck… I love hanging out with him… so naturally, I yelled at him and made him feel like worthless shit just because he made me feel --”

Just then, a stoic woman’s voice sounded through the ear piece of his cell phone, reminding him that the message was going to be cut short in ten seconds. Dean waited until she was done and exhaled, forcing out a chuckle. “It’s probably best that your angry voice mail lady is cutting me off. This was about to turn into a real freakin’ click flick moment. Anyway… I’d like to talk to you soon, Sammy. My life is kinda all fucked up as usual. It’d be good to have you berate me about it over food. I really miss y--”

But his voicemail was cut off by a click sound. It was followed by beeping. He lowered the phone from his ear and sat up again, looking around at his surroundings miserably. Figures the he’d just let it all go the one time he worked up the courage to actually leave Sam a voicemail with substance that didn’t just consist of ‘Answer your phone, fuck face.’

He knew he needed to go home, but he was dreading it. He hated going home these days when all he saw of Castiel was his back, his bedroom door, or his wet foot prints all over the bathroom floor. He dreaded going home so much he’d taken to sleeping with the girls at work again just so he had a place to sleep.

But it didn’t feel fun or right anymore. He felt like he was just going through the motions, but he couldn’t invest himself in a kiss or really let himself enjoy a touch. Their floral perfumes were too strong, their touches too soft. Their kisses were too tame and the sounds that they made weren’t enough anymore. He needed long, rough fingers tangling in his hair and fumbling clumsily over his skin, inexperienced but eager. He need rough stubble against his face and dry lips against his own, breath hitching and deep moans against his lips.

The women were beautiful and soft and normally he’d love it, but someone else was always present in the back of his mind and it changed everything.

\- - -

Castiel was still Castiel though, despite everything that went on between them. He was as loyal as loyal came. In the early afternoon before Sam’s wedding rehearsal, Dean was woken up by a soft knocking on his door. He lifted his head from the pillow and watched Cas walk around his room quietly, opening drawers and rifling through his closet.

“Wassit?” Dean asked eloquently, blinking slowly and squinting, trying to follow Cas in the darkness.

From his walk in closet, Dean heard Cas reply gruffly, “There’s food in the kitchen. Go eat. We have to meet with Bobby in an hour and a half. I saved you some hot water to shower. I’m just putting together some clothing for you for today. Hurry up or your food will get cold.”

Dean face planted back into his pillow, rubbing his face against the warm, welcoming material. It smelt like booze. Apparently, it had been one of _those_ kind of nights again. “I don’ need you t’ put my outfit together, ma.”

But Dean was pretty happy to hear Castiel finally said more than three words to him. He sighed into the pillow, listening to Castiel rummage around quietly. Then he raised his head abruptly, “What do I need an outfit for?”

“It’s Sam’s wedding rehearsal today.”

Dean sat up completely, his head spinning so horribly he had to press his palms into his temples to balance himself out. “What? No. I don‘t think I‘m going to that.”

“You have to go. Your place is paid for. Bobby, Jody, and Brady worked hard to put this together. It would be rude not to go. You would ruin it for Sam if you didn’t attend.”

And so three hours later, following a wedding rehearsal that was like pulling teeth - Dean had to watch Brady stand at Sam’s side, in _his place_ \- Dean was getting out of his car, pulling up in front of Brady’s giant house after a long slow drive through his estate, up a driveway lined in guides holding champagne glasses.

He put the car in park and stared up at the extravagant house, rolling his eyes and turned to Castiel, who was looking forward through the windshield emotionlessly, his eyes distant and lost in thought. As usual, there was something very sad about his expression.

Dean cleared his throat to break the silence. He nudged Castiel, who blinked, cleared his throat, and undid his seatbelt, ignoring Dean as he climbed out of the car. Dean frowned and followed, ignoring the way his heart had dropped a bit at Castiel’s cold shoulder. He wanted to stop him, to force Cas to talk to him. He didn’t know what he’d say, but he just needed to talk to him, to have him say something more than the bare minimum.

But he didn’t stop him. Instead, the two men were greeted by a butler -- a butler!? Really?

Dean and Cas each accepted a glass of champagne and were redirected to a dining room down a long, elegant looking hallway. Dean could hear music playing and talking of a moderately large group of people coming from the room. He sipped champagne and cringed.

“This shit is so disgusting. Champagne at the door? Really? As if we hadn’t had enough champagne up the driveway as they shoved it in my freakin’ car window like we’re at McDonalds. Fuck.”

“I told you already I’ll drink yours if you don’t’ want it.” Castiel said, not waiting for Dean to offer it. He took it from his hand and drank deeply, making a face as it went down. Dean frowned at him but didn’t comment. He didn’t blame him. Dean himself needed a drink right now, though he definitely needed something stronger than champagne.

The two passed through two wide open doors into a large dining room. The ceilings were high - what the hell was it with rich people and high ceilings? The room was long, the windows were tall, and everything was a dark mahogany. It was like a glamorous hunter’s cabin with chandeliers.

Dean turned to Castiel to insult Brady’s house, but was unsurprised to find himself looking at Castiel’s back as he walked away towards Jo, who was standing with Bobby, Jody, and Rufus. Dean gritted his teeth. He hadn’t been on exactly the best terms with Bobby after discovering he had teamed up with Brady to organize this event. He had learned from Castiel earlier in the day that it was the groom’s family that planned the rehearsal dinner, but still Dean couldn’t help but feel a little betrayed by Bobby. He knew deep inside that the feeling was irrational, but Dean felt it strongly nevertheless.

He squared his shoulders, shoved his fists in his pockets, and was about to walk over there to make small talk he didn’t know how to make when Sam stopped him, resting a hand on his shoulder. Dean turned to his brother. He first felt a sense of complete and unaltered happiness. He grinned and looked up at his younger sibling, barely able to contain his joy. He nearly hugged him but the polite, uncomfortable expression on Sam’s face stopped him.

“Dean… hey.” Sam greeted, his voice controlled and obviously rehearsed. He smiled but it was tight. Dean’s heart dropped so far down inside him he felt it somewhere near his ankles. His throat constricted and he almost stepped back, away from his brother’s touch.

“Hey, Sam.”

Sam nodded and smiled tightly, shoving his hand in his pocket. “I’m really glad you could made it.”

What the hell was this? What the _hell_ was this? What was going on? Dean didn’t like this at all. He knew Sam had been angry at him, but he didn’t feel like this was deserved. Dean swallowed hard, trying to clear the lump in his throat. He looked up at his brother, trying to smile though he probably looked like a maniac.

“What? Of course I could make it. I told you I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

Sam blinked, looked around awkwardly for a moment. “Oh. I wasn’t sure if you were gonna come. Even Cas told me it was a maybe, that he didn’t know.”

Dean blinked, looking extremely confused and a bit hurt. “But… that voicemail I left you…”

Sam tilted his head and frowned. He seemed to be thinking extremely hard. Then his eyebrows disappeared into his fringe and Sam looked relieved. “Oh. _Oh_. I remember that. Yeah, I know you left me one but I never ended up listening to it. It’s on my phone still. I’ve been meaning to check it for days but I’ve just been so busy this past week. I’m sorry, man. I wasn’t sure if you were gonna come…”

Dean was feeling a variety of colourful emotions, but he just nodded, this time being the one to smile tightly. “No worries. I’m here.”

Sam seemed to sense the tension thick in the air and he replaced his hand on Dean’s shoulder, looking regretful. “Dean, I really am sorry. I’ve just been really busy. More busy than I thought I’d be for a while. But with planning the honeymoon and sorting things out with our real estate agent over in New York, it’s been hectic. You’d be surprised how hard it is to actually find a decent apartment in Manhattan. I --”

Sam was interrupted when Brady walked up to the two and rested a hand on each of their shoulders. He smiled at Sam and greeted Dean with a handshake. Dean squeezed his hand more tightly than was necessary and flashed him a fake smile.

Brady clapped Dean on the shoulder. “Dean! Great to see you. We weren’t sure if you were gonna make it. I’m glad you came though. Did you find the house all right?”

“Oh yeah. I mean, thank God the champagne fairies were there to guide me because I would’ve been lost without ’em.”

Sam groaned, but Brady laughed, nodding. “Yes, yes. I thought you of all people would appreciate being handed alcohol every couple yards.”

Dean’s fake smile slipped for a moment and he looked unimpressed, though Brady’s smile only widened. As a waiter walked past them, Brady grabbed a glass of champagne and handed one to Dean.

“Drink up. It’s going to be a great night.”

\- - -

A bit later, Dean had stepped out to grab his gift for Sam from the Impala and when he returned both Sam and Sarah’s close family and wedding parties were sitting down to eat. Dean chose a spot beside Cas. He slid into the seat and settled in. He turned to Cas but noted that his roommate was avoiding eye contact and drinking deeply from a narrow glass of champagne, his eyes lowered. Cas slid the empty glass away from him and slumped in the chair, peering around through unfocused eyes. Dean watched him carefully, frowning, until everyone was seated and Brady stood, a glass raised in his hand.

“I wanted to thank everyone for coming. Bobby, Jody, and I are so pleased you could all make it, especially considering we hosted the rehearsals so early before the wedding. I unfortunately could only make this room available for tonight and so I thank both Sarah and Sam for their patience and co-operation. You two have been such a pleasure. I’m so honoured that you’ve let me help plan your special day. Thank you two so much. And thank you all for being so lovely.”

Dean leaned into Cas and whispered, “Thanks for being so lovely, Cas. Ugh. What a prick.”

Castiel turned red and clenched his jaw, but otherwise ignored Dean, choosing to instead to keep his annoyed gaze on Brady. Dean sat back and decided he’d shut his mouth. He already had managed to create bad vibes with most people sitting at the table, so he decided to remain silent for the rest of the speeches. Sam thanked everyone for coming, Sarah and her bridesmaids said a few tearful and giggly words, and even Bobby said a couple gruff, affectionate words to Sam and Sarah.

Dean found himself standing up, grabbing one of Castiel’s champagne glasses - jeez, how many did he have in front of him? He swallowed when he realised everyone was looking at him.

“Hey everyone. I promise this speech is gonna actually be short. This time I’ll keep the encores to the bare minimum.”

His confidence kicked up a couple levels when there was a low chorus of laughter. He cleared his throat and continued, extremely conscious of every pair of eyes in the room staring at him. He played with the glass in his hand and focused on Sam, a smile creeping into his face despite the strange tension that’d been present between them throughout the past couple weeks.

“I know I’m supposed to make a best man toast to you and Sarah, but I can only really say congratulations so many times before you both want to hit me in the face.” Dean was pleased to see Sarah grinning and elbowing Sam. He winked at her and looked back to his brother, who was smiling back now. “But I’ll make this short, since your actual best man already made his speech. Thanks again, Brady, for taking over for me. You’re swell.”

Sam’s smile almost faltered, and his green eyes flickered to Brady, ready for confrontation, but Dean raised a hand to calm him.

“Anyway, I know it’s kinda weird to give gifts at the rehearsal dinner--” He’d googled it. “-- but I wanted to give you a little something, Sam, since your bachelor party kinda… fell through.”

There was a shared exchanged of shifty glances from everyone who’d been on the disaster plane ride, but no one said anything. Dean seized the moment to reach into a bag beside his chair and hand Sam his gift.

Sam accepted a large, leather album in two hands, pulling it towards him with a strange look on his face. The album looked just like their father’s journal, if not for it’s size. Sam opened the album slowly, letting out a bark of laughter at the first page, which featured several covers from Chuck’s novels collaged across the page. Dean watched anxiously as Sam turned the pages.

Pasted on the pages inside the album were baby pictures and photos Dean had collected over the years. Thanks to a camera Dean had stolen as a kid, there were several Polaroid’s of Sam and Dean in motels, hiding under pillow forts or playing with small crappy toys. There were pictures from their stays at Bobby’s. Dean had even gone to the trouble of finding Sam’s high school and university yearbook photos. He’d then gone through the trouble of doodling antlers and sideburns on them.

From Missouri he’d collected pictures of their father and their mother. Dean had even driven all the way down to Lawrence High Schools, broken into the libraries, and cut out pictures of them from their yearbooks. Dean saw Sam’s hand reach up and run gently over an old picture of their young mother, grinning up at them from a picture of her at a school pep rally.

Nearing the middle of the album there were recent photos. One was of Cas from two years ago, just after his fall, head just barely poking out from a bundle of blankets as he snoozed. Another was of Dean and Sam, seated on Bobby’s porch, with beers in their hands and smiles on their faces. One of Dean’s favourite might’ve been a really classy picture of Bobby glaring at them from under a car’s hood, greased smeared across his cheek and all over his raised middle finger.

Though his absolute favourite was one that none of them knew was being taken. Jody’d sneaked it one night about a year previous. It was of Sam, Bobby, Dean, and Cas -- all seated at Bobby’s kitchen table, beers littering the surface and cards held loosely in their hands. Sam and Dean were grinning and Bobby was even smiling a little. Cas looked confused as he surveyed his cards.

Sam looked up from the album, unaware that everyone had gone quiet. He and Dean stared at each other, their eyes locked and intense with emotion. He then blinked and looked back down at the album, turning the pages slowly.

“Holy shit, Dean.”

The table of people laughed. Sam ran his hand under his eyes quickly, obviously hoping no one saw him get choked up. He looked back up at Dean and said weakly, “Half of it is empty…”

Dean shrugged and said playfully, “I thought you might want to fill the rest of what I like to call the Winchester Family Album 2.0. I remember mom used to have one when I was a kid but it… well, you know. Anyway, New York’s got some pretty cool stuff. Nothing compared to crappy motels or salvage yards but it’s got it’s charm, I guess. I figured you and Sarah might be able to add some stuff to it…”

Sam was flipping through the album again, smiling. “Dude, this is so cool…”

Dean snorted. “I put something in the back for you, too.”

Sam frowned and the guests hummed with curiosity. Sam flipped to the back and untapped a paper CD case that had been attached. He turned it over and read the play list. Sam threw his head back and laughed.

“Dude, really? Bon Jovi? That is grim.”

Dean grinned, “Hey. Remember what I told you; they’re good on occasion. Don‘t be whiny. If you keep reading I put some Radiohead on there for you.”

Sam shook his head, still smiling. “Thanks, Dean. You don’t know what this means to me.”

Dean shrugged, suddenly become completely aware of the heartfelt scene he’d just created in front of everyone. Blushing, he sat down and raised his glass, saying, “To Sam and Sarah.”

The table repeated him in a chorus and glasses chimed. Dean recovered quickly from his embarrassment when he looked across the table and found Sam grinning at him still, eyes shining. Sarah smiled at Dean too, blowing him a kiss. Dean caught it and stored it in his pocket, turning to Sam and returning the smile wholeheartedly. Sam quietly nodded thanks to him and Dean opened his mouth to say something to him when Brady stood up, stopping him.

Dean’s heart almost tumbled out of his mouth. No. What could that douche bag be up to now?

Brady, who was sitting beside Sam, rested a hand on his shoulder. He smiled at everyone and then returned his gaze to Sam, who looked equally as surprised as Dean felt.

“I didn’t know this was going to turn into a gift exchange, but since it has, I couldn’t wait to share this with you guys.” Brady removed an envelope from a pocket inside his blazer and he held it up in front of Sam, smiling down at him. “I was going to give this to you two after the dinner but I … Oh, just open it.”

He sat back down and handed the envelope to Sam, who took it slowly and glanced at Sarah, silently questioning whether she knew what was happening. Dean’s palms started to sweat. What the hell was in that envelope? He looked to Cas, hoping to share in a confused glance but Cas was staring at the photo album in front of Sam, his eyes distant and watery. Dean turned back to Sam and Brady, his nails breaking the skin in his hand as he clenched his fists and watched two slim papers come out of the envelope in Sam’s hands.

There was a silence and then Sam turned to Brady, throwing his arms around him.

“Dude! No way!” He pulled back, grinning. He was staring down at the papers. “You didn’t… You..”

Brady nodded, his stupid charming smile widening. “I totally did. I knew you always wanted to go to backpack through Europe.“ He clapped Sam on the back and winked at Sarah. “You and Sarah fly out to Amsterdam the night after the wedding. I‘ve organized all the trips for you. You‘ll be flying back three week later from Greece.”

Sarah let out a squeal of joy and she got up from her seat, throwing her arms around Brady, who hugged her back tightly. The rest of the guests clapped loudly and cheered. Dean sat still in his seat, staring at the album lain forgotten in front of Sam.

“ _Are you fucking kidding me?_ ”

The long table went quiet and Sarah released Brady, blinking up at Dean in confusion. Sam turned to survey Dean, eyebrows raised.

Dean stood up, pushing his chair back so forcefully, it tipped backwards and made a loud crash against the floor. Dean slammed his hands down on the table and leaned forward, his face turning a horrible splotchy red.

Bobby spoke quickly, before Dean could start. He started to get up, saying with a tone of warning, “Dean…”

Dean’s head turned so fast to glare at Bobby he could’ve sworn his neck should’ve snapped then and there.

“Oh _shut up_ , Bobby.” Dean turned to Brady and Sam, repeating, “Are you fucking joking me?”

Sam looked shocked when he said, “Dude, what are you--”

Brady joined in, raising his hands, “Dean, now calm--”

“I _told_ you about Amsterdamn! That was _my_ idea!”

Sam stood up so quickly his chair also flew back. “Damn it, Dean!”

Dean gritted his teeth and yelled furiously, “Sammy, no! What -- you’re just gonna let this douche bag buy you and Sarah a fucking _honeymoon_? What next? What? You gonna leave her too? Ride off into the douchey sunset with this son of a bitch? What kind of dude buys another dude a friggin’ trip to Europe? Gay, am I right?”

Beside him, Cas made a strange noise but Dean overpowered him, exclaiming, “Oh, shut it. We were all thinking it!”

Jo pipped up, saying, “I wasn’t!”

“I was.” Rufus commented lightly, nodding very seriously. Sam glared at Rufus then turned back to stare in righteous fury at Dean.

Dean pointed at him and continued on, yelling so much he was spitting. “This is not the Sam that _I_ know. The Sam that I rode around the country with for five years, the Sam who lived out of a car and glued my hand to a beer bottle for shits and giggles would think this shit was fucking douchey as _Hell_ , and _completely_ over the top and… and would have looked at all this shit and thought, ‘Wow, these people really have nothing better to do with their money than… than…” Dean looked down at the table and snatched up a napkin that had been twisted into a swan, “…than hire some twats to fold stupid silky napkin animals! What is the purpose of this anyway!? You can't wipe your hands on this!”

Dean turned on Brady, whipping the now-destroyed Swan napkin between Brady’s eyes, relishing in the way the man jumped in shock. “You know _what_ , I bet you use stupid paper animals to wipe your perfect little asshole, don’t you, Brady?” Dean turned on Sam again, jeering mockingly, “Did he let you _borrow_ some of his ass satin, Sam? ‘Cause I understand you’re very fancy these days.”

Sam had had enough. He grabbed a folded Swan napkin from his own plate and whipped it at Dean, hitting him in the chest. “You being such a _dick_!”

Dean turned on his heel, stepped over his discarded chair and began storming out. He’d had enough. Sam made a noise of frustration and began following him. Before Dean reached the door, he stopped at the table littered with smaller plates of food.

He picked up a finger sandwich, turned on his heel, and waved it at Sam. “Is _this_ what you like now, Sam? Baby sandwiches? Are these for babies? Are you a finger sandwich kinda guy now? Fuck. Look at these… look at these things! I could fit seven of them in my mouth.”

Sam snatched the tiny sandwich out of Dean’s hand and threw it to the floor, leaning in towards Dean and snarling, “What the fuck has gotten into you?!”

Dean lost it. “You wouldn’t know, would you?! Because you can’t even return a friggin’ phone call to your bother. Where have you _been_? You don’t know anything about me anymore. But, oh, let me just fill you in, Sammy boy.” Dean raised a finger again and jutted it at Sam. “Ever since you got engaged and became buddy-buddy with Mr. Black Smoke over there, everything in my life has gone to _shit_.”

Sam was so furious his teeth were bared. Behind him, guests were getting up from the table to watch the exchange from a safe distance. From the corner of his eye, Dean saw Cas down another glass of champagne and Bobby was a horrible shade of purple, being held back by Jody. Jo had her head in her hands.

“You know what,” Sam roared, “This is supposed to be about me for once, Dean! For once in your life, couldn’t you have just been fucking _happy for me_? You’re my brother. I was supposed to have you by my side. I needed you. But for whatever reason, you are permanently stuck at angst and despair. You are always needing to be so fucking… _miserable_.” Sam waved his hands in the air, looking deranged. “And over who knows what this time?! I just needed you sane and happy for long enough to just be there for me in such a simple way! No Hell this time. No demons. No self-sacrifice. I just needed you to organize a fucking event or two with me!”

Sam ran hands over his face and then brought them together in front of his face, palm to palm, shaking them at Dean. Leaning forward, he hissed, “Somehow, Dean, you have managed to screw up every single event in my wedding.”

Dean knew his face was red and his eyes were watering. He knew he should just turn around and leave, or better yet, apologize and sit back down. But because he was who he was, Dean didn’t shut up. He matched Sam’s stance and hissed right back, “This is all Brady’s fault, not mine. You would realize that if you just removed your huge moose head out of your bestest friend’s asshole. How long did it take for you to replace me with him, huh? Not long, let me tell you. Does he eat salads with you and hold you while you cry over Coldplay songs?”

Sam released a nearly inhuman sound of frustration. “You know what? He probably would if I needed him to! Because he isn’t completely emotionally retarded like you are! You know, why couldn’t you just pretend to be happy for me and then go behind my back and talk shit to your angel like a regular person?!”

Dean stepped back, raising his arms and walking backwards, shaking his head. “I’m so happy for you, Sammy boy. I mean, Sam. Sorry, I know that nickname is reserved for you and your boyfriend---”

“You are behaving like such a child--”

“I am just so fucking happy for you. I’ll just make this easy for you and remove myself from your wedding completely.”

Dean peered over Sam’s shoulder and blew a kiss to Sarah, his heart dropping a bit at the sad expression in her eyes. He gulped and said sincerely to her, “Congratulations Sarah. No hard feelings. I really love you. You’re a kick ass chick.”

Dean then stared at Brady and said, “But you… Brady… fuck you. Fuck you so much.”

Sam stepped in front of Dean’s face, grabbing his hand before it finished it’s rude gesture to Brady. He pointed at the doorway and whispered so that only Dean could hear;

“Get out.”

\- - -

Cas came home a while after Dean had been kicked out of Brady‘s house. When he finally stumbled into their apartment, Dean had been already sitting on the couch for two hours, holding onto the neck of a warm, half-finished beer. He hadn’t changed out of his formal clothing nor had he drank much. Apparently he’d emptied out most of their fridge last night. Not that it mattered. He couldn’t even bring himself to lift the bottle to his lips and drink. Dean was so depressed he was past getting drunk and had instead ended up thinking his way through two hours.

So when Castiel came home, slamming the door behind him loudly, Dean was broken out of his long-time reverie. He didn’t turn around at first, but when he heard shoes being tossed around, a jacket being dropped to the floor, and keys hitting a wall, he had to finally set down his abandoned beer and get up. But before he could get all the way up, Cas stumbled into his vision and stood in front of him, swaying.

Dean blinked up at Cas and frowned in confusion. He tilted his head and furrowed his eyebrows, starting, “Cas, what --”

He was shut up when Can bent forward, slid his fingers over Dean’s face and through Dean’s hair, and kissed him deeply and wetly, audibly inhaling his scent and making a soft noise of happiness. Even though Cas tasted like alcohol and … well, just alcohol, Dean surprised himself by raising his own hands to rest onto Castiel’s and kissed him back.

But at the touch of hands, Castiel pulled back abruptly and shook his head, turning away wordlessly. He stumbled away and began peeling off layers of clothing clumsily. He disappeared around the corner into their hallway just in time to toss a sock at the wall.

Dean blinked, briefly wondered to himself what the hell was happening, and then he tilted sideways to peer down the corridor, calling out, “Cas? Where are you going?”

There was a silence and then Dean heard the muffled sound of puking from the bathroom. In a second, Dean was on his feet and down the hallway, pushing open the half-closed door to the bathroom. Cas was violently emptying his stomach contents into their toilet, wearing only a t-shirt, boxers, and one sock. Dean sighed and leaned down beside him, rubbing Castiel’s back as he rested his head in his arms, sniffed, and then wiped his eyes.

“Go away.” Castiel growled angrily, though his attempt at a menacing tone wasn’t so effective slurred and wavering.

Dean continued rubbing Cas’ back whilst raising a hand to his own face, squeezing the bridge of his nose. “Look, I’m sorry about today. Everything is crap. It’s all Brady’s fault.”

In a spurt of anger, Cas pushed Dean away drunkenly. He raised his head, which only turned him a paler shade of green, and he blubbered, “No! It’s _not_ his fault. S’all your own fault. Brady didn’t make you kiss me. Brady wasn’t the one who forced you t’do that.”

Again, poor Cas, his moment was ruined when he paused to heave horribly into the toilet. Dean sat there, gaping.

“Cas, I wasn’t talking about that--”

“I know. Don’t you think I know that?” Cas snapped, sniffing and panting. He lifted his head weakly and stared at Dean, his eyes shining with so many emotions it made his head spin. “Tha’s what… _hurts_. D’you have any idea the effect you have on people, Dean?”

“Cas..” Dean was at a loss for words. Considering how much time he’d spent thinking about talking to Cas, he’d never actually gotten down to figuring out what to say.

Though Castiel seemed to know exactly what he wanted to say, because he interrupted, wiping his nose on the back of his hand and wiping his eyes with his palm. “No! Don’t you know how frustrating it is to see you night after night coming back from work smelling like… like those women? Knowing that you won’t have me because of the vessel, the… the body I’m _stuck_ in?”

Dean looked away, letting his hand still against Cas’ back. He looked down and away, fighting a feeling that was felt strangely like guilt, like shame.

He was shocked into looking at Cas when one of those hands tangled up in his shirt, twisting and shaking Dean ever so gently. He looked up again, catching that intense blue stare and finding himself unable to look away.

“You know what your problem is, Dean? You don’t care about anyone but yourself.”

“That’s not true.” Dean whispered, but even to his own ears, he sounded weak.

Cas, despite being sick and drunk out of his mind, looked furious. “No? Your brother gave up everything to save the world, t’save you. He’s been through Hell an’ back. Does he not deserve a life of his own now? Does he not deserve a reward?

“Don’t I? Don’t I deserve a reward?” Until now, Dean had pretended Castiel’s eyes were just wet because he was sick, but tears were definitely dripping down his face now, unabashedly falling thick and revealing so much. “I killed my family,” Cas choked out, making a noise that sounded like a whimper. “My _family_. I turned my back on my home. I saved you an’ your brother countless times. What’s my reward? When do I collect? I raised God’s chosen s-savior from Perdition, helped rescue the world from a … _shitty_ end, and sacrificed what ‘ssentially was my soul for you just so you could have your brother back. When do I get to be special, Dean? To anyone?”

Oh fuck. Dean opened his mouth and was horrified to find himself choked up. He closed his mouth and swallowed a couple times, looking down, unable to meet Castiels’ gaze. A terrible, overwhelming guilt was eating at him. Dean slumped against the counter on the floor and exhaled shakily.

“Cas… I had no idea you felt like that…”

Castiel released Dean and shook his head, resting his forehead on his arms. To the floor, he said sadly, “You’re a liar. You know, for the record, you were the one who kissed me. You were the one who made me feel like it could actually be ‘Dean and Cas’. You continued to come back, not me. _You_ were the one who made me feel like… like you really liked me.” Cas paused, sniffling and poking at a tear that had fallen on his bare knee, “And that is so unfair.“

A silence stretched out between the two for a long time. Dean didn’t say anything, to his own horror. He wanted to admit to Castiel that he wanted him. He wanted to lean forward and pull Cas to him. He wanted to tell him he actually did like him, that he might like him more than they were both entirely aware of… But instead Dean sat there, petrified and in denial. He wanted to console Cas but that involved more self-realization than he wasn’t sure he was ready for just yet.

Cas shocked Dean back into reality when he finally moved. Cas sat up and rested his elbows on the seat, burying his fingers in his hair.

Dean sat up on his heels, resting his hand back on Cas. “Hey, how’re you holding up--”

Cas pushed him away swiftly and re-tangled his fingers in his hair. “I feel really sick.”

“Cas--”

“Get out.” Cas murmured.

Dean’s heart dropped into his stomach and he found himself wincing as if Cas had hit him. “Please, Cas. Please, not you too.”

“I don’t feel right. Get out.”

“Castiel, you’re sick. Let me just stay with you right now--”

“I know you’ve been under the impression that I need t’be taken care of, bu you’ve been wrong. I should start learning to take care of m-myself. I’ll be doing it for a long time. Get. Out.”

\- - -

 

Dean had actually stayed up extremely late the night. Even though he’d left when Castiel had asked him to, Dean had stayed awake, listening just outside the bathroom door until he was sure Cas was all right. After an hour and a half, a long silence, and no retreat from the bathroom by Cas, Dean had re-entered, only to find that his friend had fallen asleep on the carpet.

Apparently Castiel had no memory of being woken up and helped to bed or he had no interest in thanking Dean for it, because they never spoke about the incident the next morning. Or the morning after that. As a matter of fact, the two didn’t exchange many words for three or four days following, considering Cas had temporarily moved out the day after Sam’s rehearsal dinner while Dean had been at work. Dean had woken up to a note from Cas announcing that he was going to stay with Bobby - who was also pissed at him - for a little while to ‘figure some things out’. Dean thought it actually sounded pretty much like something he himself would say, then had a moment of sadness when he considered whether or not that was a bad thing.

Despite it only having been a couple of days, the quiet apartment made Dean feel worse than he remembered feeling even back when he thought he was going to Hell, or back when he had been a prime piece of real estate for archangels. Everyone was pissed at Dean. Sam wasn’t returning any voicemails again, and therefore accepting no apologizes. Bobby kept leaving Dean angry voicemails that he’d just given up on checking. Jo replied to every text message he sent her with ‘You’re an idiot’. Dean was really starting to feel as if his life couldn’t get any worse.

So a day before Sam’s wedding, when someone knocked at the door, Dean was so surprised he practically skipped over. When he wrenched open the door, it wasn’t Castiel, throwing his arms around him, or Sam, begging him to come to New York too. It wasn’t even Jo saying ‘You’re an idiot, but let’s hang out anyway.

It was Bobby. Dean was relieved to see him. That was, until Bobby punched him square in the jaw. It wasn’t enough to bruise anything, but Dean stumbled back, grasping at the wall to catch the breath that’d been knocked out of him. Bobby let himself in, closed the door behind him and glared at Dean.

“You’re lucky I didn’t knock you on your ass in front of all of Sam’s rehearsal dinner. Tellin’ me to ‘shut up’. Boy, I didn’t teach you to talk to your elders like that, an’ I sure as hell know John didn’t. Go get me a drink, idjit. Bottled water, none of that tap bullshit.”

Shocked and impressed, Dean nodded and massaged his jaw all the way back to the kitchen. He was surprised to find he actually did have a bottle of water in there, considering how completely empty the fridge was. Dean brought the drink to Bobby and settled down in the living room, blinking at Bobby, wondering if he was gonna hit him again.

Bobby glared at Dean from the sofa, looking strangely out of place in the small, cramped apartment. He raised a finger and pointed at Dean, making him feel like a little kid again as he growled, “So you wanna tell me what the hell is going on with you? ‘cause for some reason you haven’t been returning my damn calls. You forgot how or something?”

Dean shrugged. “After that first one, I just stopped checking.”

“What first one?”

“The one were you yelled at me for a couple minutes and called me a low life, unappreciative --”

“Which you are. Unappreciative, that is.”

Dean sighed, rubbing his face and massaging the bridge of his nose. “Look, I haven’t been responding to your voicemails because what am I supposed to say? ‘Hey. I haven’t been to work in three days because I hate my job, there is no food in the fridge, I’m broke because my brother’s wedding took everything from me somehow, my former angel-slash-roommate has taken off without talking to me first, and my brother who is moving away to a bigger and better life isn’t talking to me anymore. I can’t fill up my own gas tank, give my baby a wash, or do my own laundry. Basically, I can’t take care of myself, my car, my family, or my friends…. Which I don’t even have.’ How’s that for an update?”

Bobby’s eyes narrowed even more, if that was even possible. “You watch how you talk to me, boy.”

Dean ran his hand through his hair and shrugged. “I’m sorry, Bobby. I am. I’m just… kinda hanging by a thin thread here. I guess I kind of have been for a while.”

Bobby finally sipped from his drink, shaking his head as he lowered it back down and screwed on the top. “I find that all incredibly interesting except for that it’s all bullshit.”

“Bobby?”

“You’re broke because you haven’t ever had to save for anything in your life, so you’re spending’ all your money. Your brother isn’t talking to you because you’re acting like a spoiled, selfish little shit. And your angel isn’t off to fuck knows where. He’s living in my spare bedroom until he feels a little less heartbroken than how you left him.”

Dean considered making fun of Bobby for sitting him down for some real talk, but his guilt shut him up. Bobby seemed pleased with this.

“Okay, boy. I dragged my old ass over here to tell you this so listen carefully. It’s sappy as hell so I’m only gonna say it once.” Bobby scrunched his lips together, looking like he was preparing himself for a grand task. “That stupid angel, human, whatever -- he’s stupid in love with you and you’ve been stupid in love with him since he dragged your useless, sorry ass outta hell. You need to stop worrying about Sam moving on with his life and _get on with your own_. It’s always gonna be Dean and Sam, but if you hold on too tightly to your brother, he’s gonna fight harder to make you let go.”

“Bobby, I --”

“So help me God if you open your mouth before I’m finished I’m gonna actually knock you on your ass.“

Dean’s teeth audibly clicked as he followed orders and closed his mouth.

“Your brother deserves this. He deserves the wife and the wedding and the fancy lawyer position in whatever the hell city wherever he wants. Sam deserves this. I just dare you to counter me.” Bobby took a second to pause, for what Dean figured was drama. Then he continued, “You want your brother to stay your _brother_ , then you gotta get off your high horse, thank Brady for trying to make Sam’s wedding the best it can be, congratulate your brother for real this time, and see him off yourself with a fucking smile on your face even if it kills you inside to do it. Let your brother be happy, Dean. ’Cause you know he’ll be miserable if he knows you are, too. It’s some stupid gene you two have in common or somethin’.”

Dean was quiet. He looked down at his hands and spent a good minute scratching at his thumb nail before he murmured, “I just miss him, I guess.”

In a rare fatherly gesture, Bobby reached forward and pattered Dean’s cheek. “I know you do. I know.”

Dean blushed, not used to such moments with Bobby, and shrugged. “It’s too late to apologize in time for the wedding though. He’s probably still pissed.”

Bobby’s eyebrows disappeared under his cap. “Oh yeah, Sam is pissed. Don’t know if there’s much you can do about that. You fucked up pretty badly this time.

“But as for Cas. That stupid angel saved you, saved the world, and saved Sam. He made a deal with Crowley to get your brother back _just because you wanted him back._ “

“I know, Bobby. I understand.“

“I don’t think you do. What he did requires all kinda _stupid_ but we’re not here to talk about how brainless your angel is. Don’t pretend that he doesn’t mean the world to you because I know he does.“

Dean looked away again, feeling more heat pool in his cheeks.

“That angel has been there for you since day one. I know he was a real prick back at the beginning, but he’s done more for you than I think anyone has. Hell, I know if he had a pair of jugs and a vagina you’d have put a ring on that quicker than you could call him ‘dude’.”

Dean nodded, then blinked and slowly looked up at Bobby, his eyes a wide. “Did you just make a Beyonce reference?”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Bobby stood and emptied his water bottle, tossing it at Dean, who reacted quick enough to barely catch it in his fingers.

“I’m kicking Castiel out today. When he comes home, you’d better make up with him. It’s been three, four days and already I’m tired of his moping. And don’t you think he didn’t get an earful, too. The bastard is even more self-deprecating than you are.”

If Dean hadn’t been able to give himself enough of a push to talk to Cas, a direct order from Bobby would do it. He nodded and said, “Yes, sir.”

“Also, go to work.”

Dean made a face, only causing Bobby to glare at him and growl, “What?”

“I don’t want to work in a damn gym, Bobby. What am I doing with my life?”

Bobby paused, took a moment to do some deep thought, and raised his hand, resting it on Dean’s shoulder. “Look, son. You wanna hunt? Hunt. Sam is moving on with his life. Move on with yours. It’ll piss him off. I know he asked you because he cares about you, he wants to protect you and keep you safe. But it wouldn’t be the first time you Winchesters broke your word to each other. And trust me, it won’t be the last time either. Nor will be it the last time he forgives your stupid ass.”

Dean nodded slowly, watching Bobby grab his jacket from the coat hanger behind the couch.

Bobby peered at Dean as he shrugged the garment over his shoulders. “Oh, and Dean, I meant to talk to you about Brady. I just wanted to say --”

Dean shrugged and waved it off. “Bobby, you don’t have to do that. I mean, he is a massive dick, even without the demon in him. But I know you were just trying to do whatever would make Sam’s life a little easier. I knew it. I know it. I was just pissed and willing to take it out on anyone. I’m the one who’s sorry.”

Bobby chuckled. “Well, great, though I wasn’t about to apologize.”

Dean froze. “What? Really?”

Bobby shrugged. “Yeah. You pretty much covered it there. I know I‘m not your and Sam’s dad but I‘m pretty damn close. It makes it my job to make Sam‘s life easier when I can and tell you when you‘re being an ungrateful shit.”

“Oh.” Dean said eloquently, his eyes darting around the room.

Bobby closed the distance between them and patted Dean’s shoulder again. “Yeah. Now go take a shower, son. You smell like sweat and balls.”


	8. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'S6 AU (And sort of S5 AU after 5.10 - Ellen dies but Jo lives and Brady doesn't die in 5.20). Set two years after the apocalypse that never happened. When Sam is due to get married and appoints Dean as his best man, chaos ensues. Especially since Sam's rekindled friendship with Brady has been getting in between the Winchesters' brotherly bond. Dean struggles with his life as it doesn't go according to plan, Bobby is in sober and actually happy, Jo has a boyfriend that is much too attractive, and Cas deals with being human a tad poorly. Oh, and why does everyone think Cas and Dean are boyfriends?

A day after Bobby’s inspirational talk and useful advice - he really had needed a shower - Dean finally spoke to Castiel.

Only, it wasn’t the talk he wanted to have.

Dean’s phone rang around eight thirty in the morning on the day of Sam’s wedding. He had been very productively standing by the microwave, taking a swing from a beer and waiting for his pie to re-heat. When the phone went off in his pocket, he admittedly jumped a foot in the air. The phone being in his pocket at all had been completely out of habit. He hadn’t actually expected anyone to contact him today of all days. As far as he was concerned, this was Pretend-Dean-Didn’t-Exist Day for everyone he knew.

Dean was shocked to see the flower shop number come up on his cell phone screen. Stupidly, he stared at the number, running through his head a number of reasons why Castiel would be calling him and similarly running through his mind a number of things he wanted to say to him.

To start, he decided on, “Hey.”

“Hello, Dean. Are you going to the wedding?” Castiel asked through the phone, as smooth and as tactfully as usual. Dean’s heart jumped in his chest happily. He was so relieved to hear his voice. But his heart sunk again when he realized the answer to Cas’ question.

“No. I don’t think I’m welcome there, Cas.” Dean answered softly.

There was a silence. Dean lifted his beer to his lips, trying to buy time before he had to say anything else. Castiel spoke first, asking suspiciously, “Are you drinking a beer?”

Dean lowered the bottle, his eyes wide and shifty. “…No.”

“Dean, you are aware it’s not even nine in the morning yet?”

“Yeah. Shut up.”

“Is that the microwave I hear? Dean, are you standing right in front of the microwave?”

Castiel sounded annoyed. Dean set the bottle aside and stepped back a bit, frowning and feeling guilty, like a puppy who’d peed on the floor. “No.”

He heard Castiel exhale slowly, sounding pissed still. Dean seized the opportunity to prolong the conversation that he felt Castiel was about to end.

“So what are you doing at the flower shop? The caller I.D said you’re there.”

Castiel sounded hesitant and a bit annoyed, as if he wanted nothing more than to hang up. “Did you already forget that the shop is in charge of the arrangements for Sarah and Sam?”

Dean felt like a naughty puppy again. He buried a hand in his pocket. “No, I didn’t.”

“Right. Anyway, Brady and Sam are going out to breakfast, but I think the rest of the grooms men are getting together nearer to noon before the ceremony. I wanted to check over their arrangements and finish up some work in time to make the get together before it ends. Do you need a more in depth report or shall that do for now?”

Dean, despite himself, felt a bit hurt by Cas. He shifted from one foot to the other, frowning and rubbing the back of his neck. “No, man. I just… Look, are we okay?”

“I have to go.” Cas said abruptly.

“No, Cas. Listen, I --”

“I have work to do. We’ll talk later.”

Dean opened his mouth to argue, but he was met with the dial tone. Dean lowered the phone from his ear and stared at the screen miserably. He turned it off completely, not wanting anymore depressing calls on his already super depressing morning. He grabbed his pie from the microwave, snatched up his beer, and dragged his feet into the living room, dropping down onto the couch and turning on some Saturday morning cartoons.

An hour and a half later, three episodes of old school Dragon Ball Z - Bulma was a babe - and half an episode of Power Rangers into his morning marathon, the door bell rang. Dean was comfortably sunken into the couch, practically swallowed alive by the soft cushions and his sadness, so he ignored the door. He wasn’t going to have anyone else ruin his day.

But a minute went by and the visitor was banging at the door so loudly that it could no longer be ignored… And they were clearly looking for an ass kicking, which Dean was more than happy to give right then.

He got up and made his way over to the door in four long strides. Dean wrenched it open and Brady almost fell through it as he raised a fist to knock again.

Brady regained his balance and stood up, straightening his hoodie and running his hands down his chest to smooth out the material. He looked like a lost puppy. This pleased Dean.

“Hey Dean.” Brady greeted, looking shifty and unhappy.

Brady’s distress only filled Dean with an unexplainable glee. He stepped back and closed the door in his face. Dean turned around and started to make his way back to his squishy sofa haven, when Brady started pounding on the door again. Dean groaned and turned back around, opening the door, though this time he left it open and started his walk back to his couch, turning his back on Brady.

Brady looked shocked, though he recovered quickly and stepped inside, closing the door behind him and standing under the threshold of Dean’s living room with a weird look on his face.

“Look, Dean… I know we’ve had our differences--”

Dean plopped down onto the couch and picked up the remote, flipping through the channels. “I am about two seconds from breaking your nose. Get to the point.”

“Sam is missing.” Brady blurted out.

Dean flung the remote aside and stood up rapidly, turning on his heel to face Brady. “What do you mean ‘missing’?”

Brady ran his hands through his hair and shrugged, looking exceptionally panicked. “I took him out for breakfast this morning. He seemed _fine_. But then he disappeared to the washroom and he never came back.”

There was a terrible silence, then Dean whispered, “Did… did you lose my little brother?”

“You make it sound like I was babysitting a pre-schooler! I didn’t think I had to keep my eye on him.” Brady replied defensively, though deep embarrassed flush coloured his cheeks.

Dean strode around the couch, staring intensely at Brady, his teeth gritted. “Well, did you notice anything strange? Were you being followed? Did you see any black eyes? Did it smell like sulphur?”

Brady narrowed his eyes and snapped, “Believe it or not, I would know if there was a demon around. I became awfully accustomed to the smell of sulphur when a demon was raping my mind and controlling my body. _No_ , there were no demons. Besides, there aren’t any left anyway.”

Dean rolled his eyes, “Some best man you turned out to be.”

Brady huffed, obviously frustrated. “Funny, I could say the same thing about you.”

Dean glared at Brady for a long moment, then stepped around him and opened the door to the building hallway. He pointed out the door.

“You know what, go find him yourself.” He said, with every intention of calling Cas and Bobby the moment Brady left to find Sam.

Brady shook his head. “No. We have to find him. When breakfast was done, I was supposed to take him to the hotel where the others are having brunch so we all could get ready but… I can’t go back without him. Sarah will murder me when she realizes her groom is missing from the wedding.”

“Too bad, so sad.” Dean snapped, his heart squeezing for Sarah’s sake.

Brady didn’t budge. He stared at Dean, anger gone and replaced with desperation. “Please, Dean. We have to find him. What if he’s not okay? I need your help.”

That was it. Dean loosened his grip on the door handle and nodded, snatching one of Castiel’s sweaters from a hook, sliding his arms into it.

“All right. Let’s go.”

\- - -

The two of them rode around the neighbourhood first, then they rode around Sam’s neighbourhood, even going through the trouble of breaking into his apartment and searching so thoroughly Dean even found some interesting magazines he’d use for blackmail material in the back of Sam’s closet.

They got back into the car, pulling back onto the main road.

“You checked everywhere?”

“Yes!” Brady argued, “I checked everywhere. All the groomsmen were getting together at the hotel where the reception is to have their own breakfast thing so I even poked my head in there to see if he was there, but nothing. I checked the office, his gym… Where is he? This is so unlike Sam.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Yeah. He’s totally not one to run away from his problems. T’grab the car and leave.” In his mind, he replayed all the times Sam’d packed his backpack and called it quits, leaving in a rage and leaving Dean alone. Dean recognized the taste in his mouth, it tasted a lot like bitterness and hurt.

Brady missed it, though. He just nodded, staring straight out the windshield with a lost look on his face. “Exactly! I just … don’t know what the problem was. It’s so unlike him to just leave me there. I mean, he can’t have cold feet! He and Sarah had it all figured out. Everything was planned and perfect and the schedule was flowing so smoothly. What the hell is going on with him?”

Dean’s lip curled and he glanced over at Brady, fighting back feelings of serious contempt. “I dunno. I mean, you should know! You guys are like _brothers_. Best friends. So close.”

Brady lowered his head, looking down into his lap at his wringing hands. He audibly swallowed and said, “Look, Dean. I want to apologize. I know ever since I came back into Sam’s life, I’ve kinda replaced you.”

Dean scoffed, shocked at the gall the dude had. “What?”

Brady ignored him, continuing on, staring out the window like an abandoned puppy, as if he was the one who was most hurt there. “I just really wanted to make it up to Sam, y’know? Before I was possessed we actually were best friends. We were there for each other all through freshman year and half of sophomore year. I really loved him. I’d never really had a best friend before him. With my parents being rich and my father in the military, most kids didn’t want to associate with me because I was so wealthy and probably intimidating because of my good looks --”

Dean wanted to slam his face repeatedly into the steering wheel but he settled for groaning and shaking his head. “I cry for you.”

“-- But Sam invited me into his group of friends with welcome arms. I always felt normal with him around, y’know? Seeing as I made his life a living hell afterwards, all I wanted was to help him live this new, normal life to the fullest. Repay him, kinda, y’know? Put my money to good use.”

“Oh my _God_!” Dean barked, making Brady jump. “You can shut up about all your money now. I don’t feel sorry for you. I don‘t.”

“Dean, I also want to apologize to you as well. I didn’t mean to cause a rift between your brother and yourself. I guess I was just so used to it being just me and Sam back in school that I just figured I could take that friendship back and work my hardest at it. I really had no consideration for your feelings --”

Dean actually removed a hand from the steering wheel and raised it in the air, shaking it furiously, wanting desperately to shut Brady up. “ _Dude_. This is all really friggin’ touching and all, but I really don’t care. It’s too late to apologize. You really messed things up between me and Sam--”

He could see Brady staring at him in desperation at his side. “Dean, I’m sorry --”

“You really aren’t listening. I don’t care. Just… stop talking. I don’t wanna talk to you. I just wanna get my brother, make sure he’s okay, and make sure he makes it to his wedding in one piece.”

“You’re a great brother, Dean. I wish I had someone like you.”

“Dude--”

“You know that original idea you had for Sam’s bachelor party? It was a really good idea. I just wanted Sam’s stag to be the best. He only has one.”

Dean stopped at a red light and seized the opportunity to bang his head against the wheel, growling in frustration. “Fan-friggin’-tastic.”

“And I’m sorry for accidentally poisoning Castiel.”

Dean tilted his head back against the seat and glanced over at Brady. “Well… Cas is just too easy these days. I wouldn’t blame yourself for that one.”

“Yeah. But I felt really badly about it. He’s a nice guy.” Brady said sheepishly, a light flush colouring his cheeks and the bridge of his nose.

Dean nodded and an awkward blanket of silence fell over them. Brady swallowed and turned to Dean, asking gently, “Sam told me you and Cas had a falling out. Are you two all right now?”

Dean glanced at Brady from the corner of his eye, shifting uncomfortably in his seat at the abrupt change in conversation. “Uhm, yeah… how does Sam know that? I never told him. Well, I did, but he didn’t check his… Oh, forget it.”

Brady shrugged. “He’s been to see Cas about the flowers a couple times in the past couple weeks. I think Sarah had him on flower duty. He might’ve mentioned --”

Dean sat up straight and made an abrupt U-turn. He’d been heading back to his apartment, but was suddenly struck with inspiration.

In two minutes, they parked in front of the flower shop. Dean ran up to the door and yanked at the handle, shocked and annoyed that it was locked. He stepped back and read the sigh. It read ‘closed’.

It was due to open in half an hour. Cas had to be in there. Dean leaned in and cupped his hands against the window, peering inside again. Sure enough, he saw Cas carting a box from the bathroom, looking grumpy as per usual on a Saturday morning.

He knocked and Cas looked up. Then he looked back down, his lips pursed in irritation. Dean stepped back, aghast at Castiel’s cold shoulder.

“What the hell? He isn’t letting me in.” Dean said, bordering pissed off but dancing on surprised.

Brady shrugged, “I dunno. Maybe he’s mad he’s missing the brunch.”

Dean paused to think about it, then nodded in agreement. “Yeah, that actually sounds like him. Anything to do with food…”

But he stepped back up to the door, banging. “Open up, Cas! I know you can hear me. I know you‘re still pissed at me, but you gotta open this door.”

He even went to the extent of calling Castiel’s phone, though he watched him take it out of his pocket, turn it off, and slide it onto the counter, grabbing an empty box and disappearing into the backroom, doing a pretty impressive job of ignoring them.

“What the hell?” Brady yelled, losing his cool, to Dean’s surprise. “He can’t just ignore us. We need his help!”

Dean grumbled and turned his back on the door, shaking his head. “He probably thinks I’m just fucking around with him to get his attention. He knows I’ve been wanting to talk to him for a while. Also, it’s Saturday morning and Cas never gets up before noon on Saturdays. He’s probably just bitchy.”

Brady didn’t seem convinced. But Dean raised a hand to calm him. “Don’t worry. I know Cas. He’ll open the door.”

Dean leaned in through the Impala’s window and turned the volume on his stereo to it’s maximum level, wincing when Metallica screamed out of the speakers. Cas hated Metallica. Dean stepped in front of the glass door and raised his thumbs at Cas, who dropped another box down on the counter and fixed Dean with a venomous look, though he didn’t budge to open the door. At this point, Dean knew it was just about who had stronger will power.

Five minutes of that and no locks undone, Dean moved onto plan B. He jumped up and grabbed a pot of flowers hanging on either side of the door, handing one to Brady. Brady took his, looking confused, then horrified when Dean turned his upside down, littering the sidewalk with soil and now-destroyed flowers. He jumped on them and turned to Cas, raising eyebrows. Cas was glaring daggers at him. Dean knew how precious those stupid plants were to Cas, but he had to admire his will power. Cas turned his back to him, his shoulders stiff and square.

Dean grabbed the pot in Brady’s hand and tossed it onto the sidewalk in frustration.

“Fuck this.” He said, leaning into his car again and turning off the music. He then walked straight up to the door and yelled, “You brought this onto yourself!”

He unzipped his pants and pulled them down, pressing his butt against the door. This time he heard a yell from inside the shop and before he knew what was happening, he’d fallen backwards into the shop, hitting the back of his head against the top of Castiel’s shoes.

Cas looked down at him and yelled, “No! No! Stop. I am not wiping your ass marks off the door! I refuse!”

Dean scrambled to his feet and buckled up his pants in a hurry, ignoring Brady’s tiny noises of confusion. Dean shifted inside so Cas couldn’t lock him out and straightened up.

“Dude, what was that about? Why wouldn‘t you open the door?” Dean snapped.

Castiel crossed his arms over his chest and shrugged, “I’m very busy right now. I don’t have time for your… talks or your games.”

“I’m not here to play games, Cas! Damn it. I said I need your help.”

Cas lowered his eyes to the floor and pushed some dirt around with his shoe. “I see.”

Dean had a feeling something was happening right now that he wasn’t aware off, but he persevered. “Yeah. I need your help to find Sam. He’s missing. I thought you might know where he is.”

Castiel looked up. Dean noticed how tired he looked, taking in the pale skin and dark circles under his eyes. His roommate sighed and rubbed his eyes, nodding. “Yes. I know where he is. He’s going to be angry at me for telling you. That’s another reason I didn’t want to speak to you this morning. Sam is going through a minuscule crisis and I think he wants to be left alone.”

Dean grabbed Castiel’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “Cas, tell us where he is.”

At ‘us’, Cas looked over Dean’s shoulder at Brady, as if just noticing he was there. Cas looked back to Dean, his eyebrow raised and his lips turned down into a judgmental grimace.

“I see you’ve befriended Brady. Apologies for my insolence, but I’m so… glad you’ve overcome your petty rivalry.”

Dean wasn’t sure if he deserved that, but he figured Cas was hurt enough to be allowed some low blows. Dean swallowed his words and nodded.

“Yeah. I have. We’re trying to find Sam. Where is he, Cas?”

Castiel stared at Dean, his anger seeming to leech out slowly until he just looked into Dean’s eyes wearily. Quietly, he murmured, “He’s at Bobby’s.”

Dean groaned, allowing his head to roll back. He turned to look at Brady and raised his hands in the air.

“Really? _Really, dude_? You didn’t think to look at Bobby’s?”

Brady shrugged, looking sheepish and embarrassed. “I… No.”

\- - -

Dean couldn’t stay mad at Brady for long after that. The whole ride to Bobby’s, the guy had looked so embarrassed that it was hard to be genuinely mean to him. As a matter of fact, it worked to his advantage because Brady was so apologetic about ‘wasting Dean’s time’ that he didn’t even argue when he was ordered to stay in the car while Dean fetched Sam.

It came as no surprise that Dean found Sam in the first room he looked in.

He sat down beside Sam on the crappy cot and twiddled his fingers in his lap, waiting for his brother to say something first. When nothing was said, Dean turned to look at his brother, nudging him with his elbow.

“Why is it every time you go crazy, you end up in here?”

Sam, who had been sitting on the cot in the center of the panic room, raised his face from where it’d been perched in his hands, and he looked at Dean miserably.

“Go away.” He murmured sadly.

Dean nudged Sam again, lowering his voice as well, his tone gentle when he asked, “What happened, Sammy?”

Sam sat up and despite being over thirty, managed to look exactly like he had when he was ten and scraped his knee up. When he turned to look at Dean, his eyes were shining, his cheeks were stained with tear trails, and his chin scrunched up. Sam reached up and rubbed his face, trying to preserve some dignity by wiping at his cheeks.

“This whole this is ruined. Sarah’s parents are freaking out over everything and Brady is smothering me. He’s trying so hard to make… well, my _life_ up to me that he’s completely taken over. I feel like he spends more time with Sarah planning this thing than I do. And…and I just let him because it hit me that I’m getting _married_ and I’m normal now…”

It broke Dean’s heart to watch his brother fight to control his own emotions. Sam took a moment to breathe and hold a hand over his eyes.

“And I got really scared. We just sent off the papers for the new condo and we’re talking about our new jobs and the gallery and…” Sam leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and holding his head in his hands. “And I just wish Mom and Dad were here. I wish Dad could be standing there beside me and I wish mom could’ve met Sarah..”

Dean also felt himself get choked up, though he swallowed and squeezed Sam’s shoulder. “Hey, Sammy…”

Sam sniffed and exhaled shakily. “And you’re not gonna be there, Dean. You’re not coming to New York. I’m starting a new life and you won’t be snoring in the next bed over. It’s just me and a wife and a job. No hunting or breakfasts at a shitty diners, or researching ghosts and sigils and… Fuck.”

“Sam..”

Sam suddenly sat up, fixing Dean with a look that was both sad and angry and tired. It was loaded with accusation. “This has been really hard to do without you, Dean.”

Dean turned away for a moment, feeing his chin start to scrunch up. He controlled himself and looked back at Sam, through watery eyes. Trying his best to control his tone, he breathed, “I know. I’m so sorry, Sammy.”

“You’re a fucking ass.” Sam announced, though his tone and expression softened, “Dean, I’m sorry for kicking you out of my wedding… I’m sorry for getting caught up in all this wedding business and for asking you to stop hunting… I just really wanted you to be safe. I wanted you to try a normal life… I wanted you to survive so you could see me get married and be a grown up.” Sam cut himself off as he started to laugh, wiping his eyes on the back of his hand.

Despite the situation, Dean found himself laughing with his brother. “Sam, I think you’ve always been more of a grown up than me anyway.”

“Yeah,” Sam agreed, sniffing and smiling. “You’re basically a toddler.”

A silence fell over them for a brief moment, and then Sam spoke, his voice tired sounding again. “I was just sitting there with Brady this morning and he was going on and on about how happy I was gonna be and how I was gonna love my job. He kept talking to me about the wedding and the gallery and what Sarah wants… I just had to get out of there. I got out the fire exit and before I knew what I was doing, I called a cab and ended up here.”

“You always do, you crazy fuck.”

Sam laughed, tears escaping out of the corners of his eyes anyway. “I realized that there would be no more Impala naps or stupid pranks between us.”

Dean nodded and added, “No more impending doom and/or horribly fiery death.”

“No more shacking up here and researching with Bobby.

“No more eternal damnation… that I’m aware of.”

“No more stupid hotels and fake credits cards.”

Dean moaned. “God, I could really use a fake credit card or two right now.”

Sam ignored him. “I realized I wouldn’t be eating horrible diner food with you anymore or listening to you singing really shitty music while I was trying to sleep. No more saving people. No more hunting things.”

Dean found himself smiling, though it was small and sad. “Sammy… Everything is gonna be okay. You’ll be fine. New York is gonna be awesome. _Sarah is awesome_. She’s smart, and nerdy, and _hot_.”

“Dude!”

“I’ll be around.” Dean reassured. “More than you’ll want me to be. And when I do come to visit you, I’ll burn you a couple mix tapes so you won’t miss my shitty music too much.”

“I’m gonna ask you really nicely not to do that.”

The brothers shared a smile and a laugh, though it faded and the two were left staring at each other wistfully.

Then Sam asked, “What’s going to happen to you?”

Dean shrugged and waved him off. “I know you won’t be saving people or hunting things, but I plan on carrying on the family business. Cas really kindly offered me an opportunity to hunt but I turned it down.“ Dean looked at Sam, nudging him and grinning. “Don’t be mad at him… he’s just a good guy. I think… I think I might take him up on his offer, permanently.”

Sam stared at Dean, then slowly smiled. It was so wide it unnerved Dean.

“What?”

It was Sam’s turn to do the nudging. He laughed and wrapped an arm around Dean’s shoulders. “Dude, just do it.”

Dean blinked, confused. “Do what?”

“You know what.”

“Sam, are you high?”

“It’s been four years coming. I knew you were stupid and I knew Cas was clueless, but he’s human now and you two have been getting closer for two years. Just stop being dumb.”

If he wasn’t able to push himself, and Bobby’s orders had been an incentive, Sam’s blessing finally shoved Dean over the edge, over the line he’d drawn for himself in his mind. Suddenly, all the chaos that had been happening in Dean’s head and in his heart came to an abrupt stop. He stared at Sam, then allowed himself to smile. He looked down at the floor and blushed.

“Well, there’s another incentive for you to get up out of this room and get married. You gotta check out the playing field for me. Let me now how it is so I can give it a shot maybe.”

“What, marriage?” Sam asked, shocked.

Dean quite nearly flailed. He blinked rapidly and stared at Sam in horror. “What?! No!”

“What? Dating? I’m sure you’ve had enough pract--”

“No,” Dean said, patting Sam’s shoulder. “I mean… getting what you want. Being normal. Being happy.”

Sam grinned again, nodding. “Oh. Yeah, I’ll let you know how that goes. I hear it’s actually pretty awesome. Though in the mean time, let’s get me out of here. You’ve chick-flicked me into getting married. Now drive me back because the taxi was expensive.”


	9. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> S6 AU (And sort of S5 AU after 5.10 - Ellen dies but Jo lives and Brady doesn't die in 5.20). Set two years after the apocalypse that never happened. When Sam is due to get married and appoints Dean as his best man, chaos ensues. Especially since Sam's rekindled friendship with Brady has been getting in between the Winchesters' brotherly bond. Dean struggles with his life as it doesn't go according to plan, Bobby is in sober and actually happy, Jo has a boyfriend that is much too attractive, and Cas deals with being human a tad poorly. Oh, and why does everyone think Cas and Dean are boyfriends?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before we go on, I must thank dreamscapemusic for being a friggin' amazing character voice beta. She read everything so last minute and gave me such wonderful feedback that was honest and so helpful. I would have been lost and alone in this cold, cold writing world without her help. My other beta, Amanda, who read through my work like a champ, picking out the many stupid mistakes I made because I'm a psycho who writes mostly during the early hours of the morning. She also was probably the best motivation behind me finishing this. So thank you, you two. Also, HUGE THANKS TO MY AMAZING ARTIST. End caps. lizfu is a BOSS. The artwork she made for this fic melts my heart, makes me squee, and turns my eyeballs into huge pulsating hearts, Sailor-Moon style. Thanks to the three of you for making this so fun for me!

Admittedly, Dean was constantly borderline ugly crying at the wedding.

After some convincing and some serious puppy eyes, Sam had gotten Brady to let Dean have his position as best man back. Maybe it hadn’t been such a great idea, Dean thought, considering how close he was to Sam as he said his vows. The sound that came out of his mouth when Sam said ‘I do’ was quite nearly inhuman, and it made Sam and Sarah crack up so badly they both turned red and had to turn away from their audience.

Dean had to give it up to Brady though - the wedding was beautiful. Apparently, he’d convinced Sam and Sarah to have it in the back of his parents’ estate. The ceremony was perfect, simple, and beautiful. The weather was warm, the birds were singing… it was so Disney he was surprised Castiel didn’t burst into gleeful fits of giggling.

The guests moved inside for the reception held in a large, high-ceilinged room that opened onto a balcony and featured romantic looking marble steps down onto a wide, green stretch of grass. From the threshold between the balcony and the reception room, Dean leaned on the door frame, holding a forgotten glass of white wine in his hand, and watching Sam and Sarah stand close, whispering to each other with stupidly wide grins on their faces. It seemed to be infectious, Dean realized as he rubbed at his face that ached from smiling all day. He had expected to feel ten different kinds of miserable, he’d expected himself to be brought down by the idea of Sam leaving for Europe in two days for three weeks before he finally made the big move to New York. But surprisingly, Dean suddenly didn’t feel so sad anymore as he watched the newlyweds, happy and perfect together, unaware of anyone else.

It hit him quite abruptly that Sam didn’t need him anymore, and it hit him equally as abruptly that he was all right with that. This - the wife, the wedding, the stupid infectious happiness - is why he’d protected Sam all these years. This is what he wanted to give his brother. He wanted to give him a life where he didn’t need to be scared, a life that didn’t involve waking up every morning with injuries or worries about whether or not he was going to be alive the next week.

Similarly, looking around, Dean realized the life he’d been leading in the recent year was the life he had wanted for himself all long. Maybe not the job selling memberships at a local gym, but it was pretty much accurate otherwise. He’d take up hunting again, he decided. He couldn’t wait to pull out a fake badge again and burn some bones. Sure, he wouldn’t be saving the world from impending doom - probably - but small time ghosts were still ghosts. He was sure there was a Wendigo somewhere in South Dakota that he could hunt down and gank.

He watched Bobby dancing with Jody, noticing his cheeks flushed not because he was drunk or grouchy, but happy and in love. It was sappy as hell, and Dean would take a moment later to make fun of him to his face, but in the meantime he could only watch and feel his heart swell affectionately.

Rufus was on the other side of the dance floor with a tall, thin woman that Dean found familiar but couldn’t place. Either way, they were dancing in a way that Dean figured probably wasn’t entirely appropriate for a wedding. He had to look away when it got to the point where he felt perverted just from watching.

Proudly, Dean noticed that Adam was chatting up one of Sarah’s bridesmaids, smiling shyly and finally looking like he might actually be having fun. It was comforting to know that Adam actually knew how to smile. Dean had slowly been losing hope up until that point.

He was pulled away from his people watching when Brady appeared, nudging him in the ribs. Dean actually smiled and nodded at Brady in greeting.

The two men stood beside each other, watching quietly for a moment, before Dean turned his head to look at Brady.

“Thanks for everything.” he said. Brady turned to look at Dean and flashed him a pearly-white smile.

“Dean, it was my pleasure.”

Dean nodded, looking back out into the crowd of people. He sipped from his glass and spoke, after taking a moment to gather some courage and swallow some pride, “You really out did yourself. Sam is really lucky to have you.”

Dean turned to look at Brady, and found himself feeling awkward when Brady stared back, smiling so genuinely Dean was tempted to look away out of sheer embarrassment.

“Dean. Wow. Thank you.” Brady choked out.

“Yeah. This wedding is perfect.” Dean admitted, “Everything looks great, the food is awesome…”

“I know you’re not a fan of finger sandwiches. I’m sorry.”

“Aw, yeah.“ Dean laughed, “Well… I had about fifteen of them so I’m pretty full now.”

“That’s good.”

“Sam and Sarah couldn’t’ve asked for anything more. You really helped them out…. And Bobby. He would’ve been totally lost when it came to the dinner rehearsal, I know it. He and Jody haven‘t been so great on the money front lately and I know you helped pay, so… thank you.” Dean said, turning his head again to smile at Brady. At this point he couldn’t help it. The guy seemed so sincerely flattered that it was hard to hate him. “They’re so happy, eh? I mean, the stupid goofy grin on Sam’s face is enough material for me to make fun of him for a couple years. It’s so dopey.”

“It really is.” Brady agreed, laughing. The two men fell into a silence again and then Brady turned to face Dean, nudging him on the shoulder. Dean raised an eyebrow when Brady looked like he was blushing.

“What?”

Brady looked up from the floor and exhaled slowly, smiling lightly. “Dean, despite everything we’ve kinda done to each other in recent months, I’d really like for us to be friends.”

Dean hadn’t had many friends ever. Usually he’d rather not, considering ninety percent of them ended up dead. But the world had changed and Dean paused to consider whether or not he wanted any. Looking at Brady carefully, taking in his eager eyes and honest expression, he decided having an extra friend wouldn’t hurt.

“Sure. That’d be great. I think I’ll take you up on that. You’re not nearly as douchey as I think I made you out to be.”

“I can be some times.”

“I know. I was being nice.”

“Oh.” Brady said, nodded. “Well, thank you. You‘re not as big of a lazy airhead as I originally thought.”

“Okay. See, that wasn’t nice.” Dean said, barely holding back a groan. Brady winced.

“Right. Sorry,” He apologized, “But I would like to be friends. Maybe we could go grab a beer some time?”

“Dude, totally.” Dean agreed, “But only if you buy me that really good shit you got last time.”

Brady grinned. “Of course. And bring Castiel. I like him. I do owe him an apology too, for accidentally drugging him and getting him arrested.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t mention it.” Dean said, his lip twitching as he tried to stop a grin. “I think he’s still a bit embarrassed about that.”

“Right,” Brady agreed, nodding. “No mentioning it. Got it. Have you spoken to him since this morning?”

Dean frowned, shaking his head. “No. I haven’t. I haven’t really even seem him since the ceremony anyway. He sort of does that - disappears. He just slinks off. I think it’s a residual angel thing. It’s like he doesn’t have footsteps.”

Brady laughed and pointed over Dean’s shoulder at the dance floor. “Yeah, he seems to be having a hard time with his feet over there.”

“What?” Dean turned around and grinned at the quiet disaster slowly unfolding on the edge of the dance floor. Jo was failing miserably at teaching Cas how to dance. They had their hands together, fingers linked and held out at shoulder height, both of them staring at their feet, Jo using her toes to nudging Cas’ feet in the right directions. He looked very concentrated with his eyebrows furrowed and the tip of his tongue swiping over his dry lips. Meanwhile Jo was laughing uncontrollably, occasionally kissing Castiel’s forehead and giggling out words of encouragement.

“You should go save him. He looks about ready to burst into tears.” Brady chuckled.

He agreed. Dean said goodbye to Brady and weaved his way through people, ducking under Jo and Cas’ linked hands and squeezed himself between them, grinning.

“What’s up?” He asked, looking from one petrified face to one amused face. Jo grinned at him, while Cas looked extra miserably all of a sudden.

Jo smiled happily at him. “Dean, help him. He’s a lost cause. I think his feet are glued to the floor.”

Dean winked at her, “Don’t you worry. I’ll take over from here.”

Jo’s eyebrows shot up but she backed away, her lip twitching. Just in time, her giant boyfriend grabbed her and they both disappeared into the crowd of dancing people, Jo peering back with an incredibly suspicious smile on her face.

Dean turned to Cas, who was staring at him with wide eyes, seemingly having trouble looking pissed and embarrassed at the same time. It was incredibly cute how his eyes darted around, his lips pursed and his cheeks flushed. Dean grabbed Cas’ hand and raised it up by their shoulders, slipping the other one around his waist. Cas jumped when Dean pulled him close.

“What the hell are you doing?” He rasped, blinking rapidly and looking shocked.

“Dancing. I don’t do this ever so you’d better not pull away and embarrass me.” Dean warned, glancing around at the people surrounding them. Then he looked back at Cas, deciding he didn’t want to make eye contact with anyone else. This was already strange enough. He didn’t dance well, he didn’t like dancing, and he most certainly never danced with dudes, let alone in public.

But this was a special occasion. Dancing was like Bon Jovi. Yeah. That was his story and he was stickin’ to it.

“Arm around my shoulder, come on. Just mirror me. I don’t know what I’m doing either so if we look like idiots at least we’ll look synchronized.” Dean murmured. Castiel started to pull away, but Dean held him close, linking their fingers and squeezing. “Don’t do that. Come on.”

Cas wasn’t moving at first. He stared at Dean, his eyes narrowing in suspicion, but when Dean just smiled softly, he swallowed and looked down between them, starting to move, watching Dean’s feet closely.

“That’s it. See? It‘s not so bad. Jo‘s just not as suave as me.” Dean joked, flashing Cas a toothy smile. Cas looked up, eyes flickering from his feet to Dean’s face, still looking a bit stern, though his eyes weren’t narrow so much anymore and the frown around his mouth was less harsh. Dean thought he might even see the rosy colouring of a blush on his cheeks.

“Why are you doing this? People are looking. If you’re just here to embarrass me --”

“Shut up.” Dean murmured, not waiting to be interrupted before he leaned forward and pressed his lips against Castiel’s. Even over the music, he heard the noise of surprise come from Cas’ throat, and he felt him start a bit in his arms. For a moment, Cas seemed to respond, then he started tugging away, wriggling his fingers to get free and stepping back, but Dean pulled him back, staring at him intensely.

“Why are you pulling away?” Dean asked, breathless, adrenaline coursing through him. He’d done it. He’d kissed Cas in a crowd of almost everyone he knew. Oh god. Ohgodohgod.

Cas looked furious. “Because… because you’ll do it again.”

“Do what?” Dean asked, knowing the answer and feeling guilty before it was even spoken. They’d stopped moving and were just standing, hands connected and arms wrapped around each other. Dean was aware of people watching now, the people around them slowing their steps and tilting their heads in attempt to watch subtly. He might regret having done this so publicly later, but at the rate things were going between them, he‘d never get Cas in private, so at the moment he’d made this decision, it had made so much sense.

“Because…” Cas struggled, looking anywhere but Dean’s eye and that worried him. “You…”

“Don’t do that,” Dean said quietly but sternly, releasing Cas’ hand to grab his chin and gently coax his face forward, “Look at me, Cas.”

Cas met his eye and Dean felt like stepping back when he did, practically reeling from the intensity in the gaze. He felt Castiel’s fear and hurt and anger deep in his heart, turning it and twisting it, making him feel overwhelmingly sick for a moment.

“Because you’ll make me feel wanted and… and it makes me hope.” Cas stopped, eyes flickering down to Dean’s mouth, then slowly back up to his eyes. “I’ll believe you… because I always believe you. You use me, you hurt me and I still always believe you.” Castiel whispered, his voice rough and his eyes unblinking. Dean felt like he wasn’t getting enough air, standing so close to a person so fierce.

Dean let go of Castiel’s chin and slipped his hands around his neck, cupping the nape and moving his thumb through his hair. He didn’t kiss him just yet, but instead leaned in and pressed his forehead against Cas’, feeling resistance.

“Come back home. My life has sucked so much without you.”

“Stop it. This isn‘t fair. Don‘t say that if you--”

“I mean it.” Dean insisted. “I mean it. I miss you so badly. Ever since you left all I’ve done is eat pie and drink beer and wear your sweaters -- I know it’s sappy, shut up and let me finish.” Dean said when Cas opened his mouth to interrupt. “All I do is take cold showers, just because I’m so used to you using up all the hot water. And even though you know I hate old movies they’re all I’ve been watching because you leave your DVDs everywhere. And don’t you dare tell anyone this,“ Dean whispered, lowering his voice, “but the stupid apartment doesn‘t smell like flowers anymore and that sucks so bad. Your sweaters just smell like me now.”

Despite the confession, Castiel pulled away, looking unimpressed and hurt still. Dean swallowed hard, desperate to make things right.

“Really? Even the creepy sweater thing didn’t change your mind? Cas, please. Just come home.”

Cas looked away, shrugging. “I was going to move back in anyway. Bobby’s was never meant to be permanent.”

Dean grabbed Castiel‘s chin again, forcing him to meet his eye. “I don’t just want you to move back in. I want you to come back home. I want you to come home with me. Dean and Cas. No more random chicks, no more dancing around what‘s been there for years. I want you because I… you know.”

Cas narrowed his eyes, looking confused.

“Don’t make me Disney this shit up, Cas. I will pick you up and swing you around until you realize that I …” Aw shit. “…Fuck, I love you.”

Cas fixed him with a glare, and from their proximity, it looked even more intense as a blur.

“Are you drunk?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Dude, you totally ruined this moment. Yes, I’m sure. I just want you to forgive me really badly. And I want you to kiss me back without pulling away like a spaz.”

Castiel stared at Dean. When nothing happened, Dean grabbed the back of Cas’ head and kissed him deeply this time, inhaling audibly and tangling fingers in Cas’ hair. The people around them forgot to be subtle this time and he heard sharp, surprised inhalations of breath. Cas responded this time, though just barely. Dean pulled away, lips flushed and eyes furious.

“Come on, Cas. I don’t know what the fuck is so special about me or why you think I’m so awesome, but if you wanna collect, then collect. You are human now. You make your own life. You feel, you hurt, you recover, and you learn from it. I know it’s really sucked for you some times. I get it. I’m still getting used to being human, too. But you know all that shit you did? You did get a reward for it. I might not be such a shiny reward. I’m kinda busted and cracked in places, but I’m pretty okay most of the time. You earned your reward. Hell, I think you earned way more than just me, but your crazy ass seems to want me. So collect.”

Castiel stared at him, eyes blinking and swirling with enough emotion that Dean wondered how he wasn’t dizzy and swaying. He leaned forward for a moment, appearing to go in for a kiss, but then Cas stopped himself and whispered, “Let me go.”

Defeated, Dean stepped back, arms slipping away from Cas and falling to his sides. Cas backed away and swallowed hard, staring at Dean intensely, his face giving away nothing. Then he turned on his heel and walked away, pushing through the crowd that Dean hadn’t entirely realized had gathered. When he looked up and around at everyone, guests continued with their business, conversing and dancing. Dean started to feel annoyed, but then he supposed that’s what he got for confessing his love in public. Hmph. Last time he did that ever.

Feeling so down and rejected and downright embarrassed, Dean made a break for the washroom, needing to splash his face and bring his temperature down to normal. But as he turned a corner and was about to enter, his phone vibrated in his pocket. He retrieved it and read the screen, eyebrows disappearing into his hair line.

Come outside. Balcony.

He took a back door and detoured around the side of the house, too embarrassed to make his way through the reception room again after his rather public rejection. He sprinted up the side of the house and around back, appearing on the balcony. He looked around, not seeing Castiel. His heart dropped for a second, but then he looked down the steps, and there he was, on the bottom one, walking slowly, placing one foot in front of the other, walking in a thin line. He looked ridiculous and adorable. Dean wanted to punch him in the face and then kiss him.

He climbed down the stairs and past Cas, turning around to stand beneath him on the landing. Cas ignored him for a second, then turned to face him.

“I’ve decided to forgive you.”

Dean could have danced. Again.

Castiel licked his lips and looked down at Dean, his eyes unreadable.

“I know you love me. You’ve told me before, several times. In your sleep, when you drink. You’ve told me. I don’t think you realized it. But I want you to know… I think I love you, too.”

Okay, weird. A good weird though. Dean’s heart fluttered and he felt so happy he thought he might throw up. Or cheer.

Castiel’s lips slowly turned into a shy smile. “I deserve to be happy. I… I’ve earned it. I think my father has been listening to my prayers after all.” Cas paused to shift his weight from one foot to the other, gathering his thoughts, his small smile widening. “He sent me to you and he let me feel. Dean, I thought I fell because I failed, but I think that I fell because I succeeded.”

Cas reached his arms out and Dean stepped forward into them, letting hands come down onto his shoulders. Dean slipped his own over Cas’, knowing it looked sappy but loving the smile it was spreading on Cas’ face. His angel continued, grinning. “For some reason, despite how irritating and insensitive and rude you are, you make my very happy. You‘re very stupid sometimes, but I like it. I‘m going to kiss you now.”

Dean grabbed him and the two met for a kiss, Dean holding Cas tight as he stepped back and lowered him down so they were levelled. Everything felt right. Dean was warm and Cas smelt floral and soft but rough and--

“Boooo.”

“Yuck.”

“Get a room!”

“Is that a guy?”

Dean and Cas broke away and look up at the balcony, following the source of the sounds. Sam, Sarah, Jo, and Rufus were leaning over the railing, whipping food and jeering. Sam grinned at Dean, and Sarah gave him the thumbs up. Jo crossed her eyes and stuck her finger in her mouth. Rufus just looked confused as hell.

Cas and Dean looked at each other, smiling. Castiel narrowed his eyes.

“Is it too late to be swung around? I feel as if that would complete the moment.”

“Whoa. Calm down there, Disney Princess. That moment’s passed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I am full on ugly-weeping because this is over. I had too much fun writing it. Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed it! Feel free to leave comments, feedback, etc. below to make me crazy-grin at my computer screen for a bit.
> 
> Again, a HUGE THANK YOU to Lizfu for the awesome collab! I was so lucky to get such a great artist. And a GIANT HUG to Amanda, I could not have finished this without her cheerleading and advice. All the hugs. ALL THE HUGS. And some sloppy kisses for dreamscapemus for giving me such awesome and helpful feedback. Y'all are such champs.


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